Bring Me Back to Life
by Caiwen Nallron
Summary: At thirteen, Kichijouji loses his parents, but the Ichijou Clan saves his life. Suddenly he has to move, start a new school, and begin a new life. But the boy who helped save him is the boy he falls in love with. Drama ensues. MasakixJouji (a.k.a, MasakixGeorge).
1. Savior

**Rating:** M [slash]

 **Pairings:** MasakixKichijouji, a.k.a. Ichijou/Cardinal George

 **Disclaimer:** "The Irregular at Magic High School" is the property of Satou Tsutomu. The fanfic author is not making any money from this story.

 **Blurb:** At thirteen, Kichijouji loses his parents and home, but the Ichijou Clan saves his life. Suddenly he has to move, start a new school, and begin a new life. But the boy who helped save him is the boy he falls in love with. Drama ensues. (IchijoxGeorge).

 **Author's Note:** Although the anime subtitles call Kichijouji "George," I won't be. As I listened to the Japanese audio track, I realized that Masaki is calling him "Jouji." Although "Jouji" or "Jo-ji" is the Japanese pronunciation of George, "Jouji" is also a nickname from Kichijouji's surname. So I'll use "Jouji" here.

 **Name Order:** I prefer to render Japanese names as they truly are—surname first—even when writing in English.

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

Above him, the only thing Kichijouji Shinkuro could hear were explosions.

He sat scrunched down, huddled together in a bomb shelter with the other kids from his school. The ground shook from the bombing, and sprays of dust erupted from the ceiling. Kichijouji hugged his legs to his chest and prayed for his parents' safety, but given they worked at a magic research facility, he had no real hope they would survive. The invaders would ensure all the magicians died.

A deafening boom vibrated the entire shelter, and several kids screamed. All around Kichijouji were sounds of sniffling and crying. He understood their terror; he had never been so afraid. His entire body trembled; sweat drenched his shirt. In his panic, he couldn't remember a single spell he'd ever learned. He had always imagined protecting himself in a fight, but he'd never imagined a battle erupting.

 _My parents are dead._

It was one of the only thoughts that would come to Kichijouji. He hugged his legs tighter, too panicked to either scream or cry when another explosion racked the shelter. Several children and one teacher burst into wails.

 _I'm going to die._

One final explosion rocked the ground, sending more dust flying through the air, and then there was silence above.

For long minutes, Kichijouji heard nothing but sniffling, sobs, and whispers. Then he heard voices outside the bomb shelter's door. Through the metal, the words couldn't be distinguished. He had no idea if Japanese forces would be opening that door or if it would be the invaders.

The door banged open, admitting harsh sunlight into the dimmer light of the bomb shelter. Kichijouji jerked at the sound.

A male voice spoke, and Kichijouji didn't understand what it said.

At that moment, Kichijouji lost all belief that any higher power was in charge of the universe. There was only death. No hope.

* * *

Ichijou Masaki felt numb. Target. Squeeze the trigger. Blood explosion. Target. Squeeze the trigger. Blood explosion. In the thick of battle, he no longer had thoughts racing through his head. It was just: Wrong uniform. Kill them.

His father seemed calm, collected, unusually grim. Masaki wondered how that were possible, but he could at least pretend to be cool-headed. He could hide the fact he wanted to vomit.

They fought their way through the invading forces, having a clear shot now that the bombing had stopped. Every Japanese citizen Masaki walked up to was already dead when he found them.

Soon enough, the road was splattered with blood, bile, and pulp. Masaki stood with his gun CAD still poised, waiting for more invaders to round the corner.

A shout from his uncle broke Masaki's trance. "We've found the bomb shelter!"

"Where?" Masaki's father demanded.

"This door." Masaki's uncle pointed his phone at a steel door in the ground. The GPS map on the screen showed a red dot.

Potential life tumbled into this war reality, and Masaki stumbled. The road tilted, and he looked over the volunteer platoon with fresh horror. _We all look terrifying._ Everyone was covered in the blood.

"Confirmation?"

A woman lowered her phone from her ear, apparently having checked with a local authority. "Confirmed."

Masaki found himself stepping forward. "Let me." He opened the door and let it swing back on its hinges. It thudded to the ground.

Hundreds of kids peered up at him, red-faced and crying.

It was then that Masaki thought he truly would vomit—not from seeing people explode into pulp but from seeing hundreds of innocent kids his own age look so terrified and hopeless.

"We're the Ichijou Clan," Masaki said. "We're here to help." His voice emerged too quiet and mangled from his surge of emotion.

His dad squeezed his shoulder and then guided him aside. He raised his voice, easily filling the bomb shelter with the sound: "We're the Ichijou Clan from Kanazawa. Please come with us. We're going to evacuate you."

Most of volunteer soldiers spread out, covering the bomb shelter's entrance. Already there were two troop transport vehicles on standby, waiting for the civilians. Masaki, his dad, and a few others stood by the entrance and helped the kids and teachers climb out. Masaki's aunt and uncle, along with two of his older cousins, stood by the transport trucks and helped the kids climb in.

The third to last boy to emerge tripped on the stairs and nearly fell.

Masaki shot out his arm, catching the boy under the waist. "Whoa! You okay?"

The boy looked up at him with wide, crimson eyes, striking in their unusual color. Then the boy looked around the area.

Masaki grimaced. All that surrounded them was rubble. There had been a huge neighborhood and a school, but now there were just chunks of concrete, a few bent steel beams, burnt-out cars, and splattered corpses.

The boy gasped sharply. Masaki could feel him trembling.

"My home," the boy whispered, his lower lip trembling. "My parents . . ."

Masaki felt his eyes burn with tears. "I'm Ichijou Masaki. My father is in charge of our volunteer force. We're going to get you to safety." He helped the boy straighten and then held out his hand. "Will you come with us?" _If I can just help one person, just one, this will be all worth it._

The boy nodded slowly and slowly reached out, his fingers shaking. He accepted Masaki's hand.

Masaki wrapped his free arm around the boy's back and steered him toward the transport truck. "What's your name?"

"Kichijouji Shinkuro," the boy said, his gaze lingering on what had likely been his school.

Masaki's father quickly caught up to them. "Kichijouji? Are your parents Maiko and Seijuro?"

Kichijouji nodded. He was ghastly pale.

Masaki's father returned the nod and then looked to Masaki. "Stay with him. We owe a lot to his parents."

"Yes, sir." Masaki continued to guide Kichijouji toward the truck.

Kichijouji gazed up at the taller boy, who was covered in blood, and tried not to stare at the rubble that had been his neighborhood. _Ichijou Masaki. Ichijou Masaki, save me._ All he could focus on was Masaki's face. If he thought about anything else, if he attempted to process anything else, he was going to combust into instant hysteria.

Masaki met the boy's gaze. Kichijouji seemed delicate. He was small, with a sweet face and those big, beautiful eyes. "It's all right. I'll keep you safe." His whole world abruptly shifted. All he cared about was protecting this boy.

In that instant, Kichijouji knew he would never forget the name or face of Ichijou Masaki, even if he only spent one hour with him. He squeezed Masaki's hand and nodded his assent. _Don't leave me. Don't leave me alone._

Masaki squeezed Kichijouji's hand in return. "Kichijouji-kun, let's be friends. I'm thirteen. How old are you?" He was relieved that his father was giving him space, as well as letting him do something other than kill people. _I can help this boy. I can do this. Just let me do this._

"Thirteen," Kichijouji whispered. _I've lost my parents, I just know it. I've lost my home. I'll have to go to a new school._ Then the reality of the situation landed on Kichijouji with crushing force. "My parents! They're dead; they have to be!" The horror of it slammed through his chest, amplifying his voice but making his lungs seize. "An orphanage!" The magicians' orphanages were utterly notorious for their mismanagement. Kids often claimed abuse. "Oh, god! They'll send me to _that orphanage!_ "

Masaki clamped his hand down on Kichijouji's hand and shot a panicked look at his father.

"The Ichijou Clan will take you in," Masaki's father said. "I owe your parents too much to abandon their child in such a time of need."

Masaki was stunned, but deep down, he'd had faith in his father to do something. His father always did. "That's right. You're coming home with me."

Kichijouji's world stabilized for the moment. Barely. But it did. He pulled his thoughts together, realizing that his parents were the head of the team that had worked hard to improve the Ichijou family's spells. _Right. Connections._ His parents had always said everything resided on good networking and good connections.

Clearly they had been right.

Without releasing Masaki's hand, Kichijouji turned toward Mr. Ichijou and bowed deeply. "Thank you very much." He knew he should let go of Masaki's hand, but he just couldn't. It was the only thing keeping him together.

When Kichijouji straightened, Mr. Ichijou gave him a nod. "You're welcome. Now that that's settled, let's go." He hopped up into the nearest transport.

Kichijouji peered up at his new friend. "Thank you, Ichijou-kun."

Masaki offered him a small smile. "We're going to live together. You should call me Masaki."

"Masaki-kun," Kichijouji murmured, shot through with shyness. "You can call me Shinkuro, if you want, but my friends at school nicknamed me Jouji."

Masaki nodded. "Jouji-kun. I like it." He helped Kichijouji up into the transport truck and then climbed in behind him. They took the last two spots on the left bench seat. "Don't look, all right? It's better if you just look at me."

Kichijouji did exactly as told. He clasped Masaki's hand tightly. He stared at their hands, looking neither right nor left, up nor down. Even still, with the karate training mandated by his old elementary school, he had developed an excellent amount of peripheral vision. He saw blood—lots and lots of blood, spattered everywhere. Also, there was more rubble.

Only ten minutes later, they were rerouted into a militarized zone around a hotel. There were command tents, four vans filled with various equipment, and three ambulances. The kids were immediately sent into the hotel's basement, along with the teachers and most of the Ichijou Clan. Among all the shouting, Kichijouji heard the adults saying the bombing might resume.

During the entire time, Masaki stayed by Kichijouji's side. Even after they had been hiding in the basement for hours, Masaki didn't change out of his armor, although he did accept towels to clean it up some. He kept giving Kichijouji reassuring smiles, although Kichijouji could tell Masaki was tense as well.

In the end, they had to spend the night in the basement. Packaged food and water were brought in, and Masaki left long enough to shower and return with bloodless clothes and clean armor.

Kichijouji didn't sleep much. He lay on the floor by Masaki, facing him, and listened to the other kids cry off and on. Occasionally, adults would murmur in the background.

Finally, morning came.

Kichijouji was sitting against a wall by Masaki, choking down a breakfast bar and water, when a woman wearing a uniform bearing the insignia of a lieutenant walked up and bowed to him. "My apologies, Kichijouji-san, but I need you to come with me and verify . . ."

 _Don't say it._ Kichijouji knew what the woman was going to say. He didn't want to hear it. But he knew that Masaki's father had gone out of his way to try to find Kichijouji's parents, and this was now the result.

The woman paused and bowed again. "My deepest apologies, Kichijouji-san, but we believe your parents have been killed."

"You want me to identify the bodies," Kichijouji said flatly. His stomach clenched so hard he nearly vomited up the breakfast bar. He turned a tortured look upon Masaki. "Would you—would you escort me there, Masaki-kun?" He barely got the sentence out. His throat tightened.

"Of course I will," Masaki said. "I insist." He squeezed Kichijouji's shoulder. "You're not alone. Let's do this together."

Kichijouji nodded. He and Masaki followed the lieutenant, exiting the basement and heading outside. The entire time, Kichijouji's heart thudded harshly in his chest. His palms sweated. He felt hot and cold at the same time. Somehow, the world didn't even seem real. When he glanced at the soldiers bustling around the hotel's yard, it was like he saw them through a concave lens.

Kichijouji was shown into one of a series of the tents and then led down a row of cloth-covered bodies. The attendant pulled down the very top of two of the cloths. Pale, grayish faces met Kichijouji's inspection. The eyelids were cracked open slightly; the jaws were slack. A few mottled spots of collected blood marred the cheeks. But these two people were most definitely his parents.

Kichijouji nodded, struck through with numb horror.

The lieutenant handed him a tablet. Without speaking, he signed the form on it, his hand shaking. Then he turned and walked back out again, Masaki still at his side.

Once he was back outside, he was hit with a wave of dizziness and suddenly couldn't breathe. "Ma—Masaki-kun . . .!" He pressed his hand to his chest.

Masaki slipped an arm around Kichijouji's shoulders. "It's okay. I know it's horrible. You can let it out. You don't have to be brave." Masaki hurriedly pulled Kichijouji away from everyone else, finding a secluded spot where they would have relative privacy. He wrapped both arms around Kichijouji. "You can sob and scream against me. You can even punch me if you like; I won't care."

Kichijouji couldn't imaging punching someone out of grief, but he had no trouble with the rest. Somehow, having a very kind but total stranger hold him and comfort him made it easier instead of harder. He burst into sobs, wailing against Masaki's chest. His arms had ended up folded against Masaki's chest, and he clenched his fists against his lips. The net effect muffled the sound for those farther away, and Kichijouji didn't bother to worry about Masaki's reaction.

For long minutes, all there was in the universe was pain. Pain and wailing. But Masaki held Kichijouji and didn't let go. That warmth and strength kept Kichijouji from falling into the abyss.

Masaki let out his breath as soon as Kichijouji pulled the pin and let go. He held Kichijouji against him and ended up crying himself—over the carnage he'd seen, over all the people he hadn't saved, and over all the destruction it would take years to rebuild from. All the graves that needed to be prepared. Then he was crying over the horror of seeing his magic kill people, and after that, crying because there was one person he'd managed to save. _My magic can help people. My magic can keep Jouji safe._ Kichijouji, who was now in his family's care. Kichijouji, whom he'd instantly felt magnetized to. He was terrified of his own feelings and what they meant, and yet he'd been losing his grip on his sanity until he saw Kichijouji. Saving Kichijouji had forced his sanity to click back into place. As long as he had Kichijouji, Masaki wouldn't have to worry about losing himself.

Kichijouji cried until he had no tears left. He heard and felt Masaki crying, also, and assumed it was because they were both standing in the middle of hell. More than anything, he was comforted because Masaki apparently agreed they were in hell.

Once Kichijouji got his sinuses back under control, he peered up at Masaki again. He was abruptly aware that he was folded against Masaki's chest like a girlfriend would be. He was being nothing like a rough and tough boy at all, and not only did Masaki not seem to care, he had his arms wrapped around him still, holding him close. In that moment, Kichijouji gave his heart to Masaki. _I will go wherever you go. I will help you like you've helped me today._

He offered Masaki a small, tentative smile.

Masaki smiled back. "We're going to stick together from this moment forward, right?"

"Yes." Kichijouji clung to that promise. "From this moment forward, we'll stick together."

* * *

When Kichijouji arrived at the Ichijou mansion with Masaki, he was stunned. Certainly, he had expected something large and sprawling and rich and fancy, but he was still caught off-guard.

They exited the car and were met at the door by a woman who appeared to be in her thirties. She looked strikingly similar to Masaki, and Kichijouji discovered she was Mrs. Ichijou.

Mr. Ichijou, who had stayed on Sado Island for a debriefing, had called ahead and explained the situation. Kichijouji found himself the immediate target of Mrs. Ichijou's concern. It eased his discomfort and nervousness.

It was Masaki, not Mrs. Ichijou, who led Kichijouji upstairs. Mrs. Ichijou's voice faded behind them, and Kichijouji could hear her fussing to someone about getting him clothing and sending up a snack and getting a bed and bedroom prepared.

Kichijouji was too tired to think about much. The trip to the Ichijou estate hadn't taken too terribly long, given they'd come via helicopter, but on top of the rest of Kichijouji's last two days, it wiped him out.

By this point, Masaki now wore not amour but a basic outfit consisting of a purple t-shirt and jeans. Kichijouji was still wearing his school uniform, which at this point was sweaty and gross.

Masaki slid open a door. "This is my room. We can hang out here until your room is prepared." He led Kichijouji inside. "I'm glad we're home. I'm exhausted. You?"

"Very." Kichijouji peered around the room. It was spacious. The bed was spacious. The desk was large, as was the window. Everything was top quality and expensive.

All those details failed to impress themselves upon Kichijouji. He instead turned his attention upon Masaki. His first impression had been muddled, but now he assessed the boy more clearly: Masaki had beautiful blue-green eyes that were filled with kindness. He had an equally beautiful smile and a handsome face. He also had a eye-catching shade of auburn hair. Kichijouji realized he was hopelessly attracted to him.

"Let's take a nap," Masaki said. He plopped down on his bed, sitting against the headboard, and patted the mattress in invitation. "There's plenty of room. Maybe later we can play video games. I've got lots, and it's good for distraction."

At the invitation to nap in Masaki's bed, Kichijouji felt a blush in his cheeks. "All right." He didn't want to be obvious about his feelings, but receiving an offer of care during the worst two days of his life was too much to pass up. "I'm totally beaten." He was also suited up in layers of uniform. All he'd ditched were his shoes. "Can I shower first?"

"Sure." Masaki hopped off his bed and led Kichijouji to a bathroom, even finding him a robe to put on.

Fifteen minutes later, Kichijouji returned feeling more relaxed, more tired, and more human. He was far too traumatized and exhausted to even question sharing a bed with a kind and gracious boy. He climbed onto the bed by Masaki, trying not to feel self-conscious about the fact all he had on was a robe and no boxers. He lay down on his back, matching the position Masaki had taken. They both stared at the ceiling for a minute.

Kichijouji couldn't decide if something was actually happening between them or not. Certainly Masaki had been unusually affectionate with him, but that wasn't necessarily the same as flirting.

Masaki yawned. "This is real life, you know—being here at my house. It's not a dream. And my mom will be overjoyed that we've taken you in. She'll love you. She's like that. She loves kids." He dared to look at Kichijouji. "You'll be happy here. I promise."

Kichijouji gazed at Masaki and gave him a little smile. "All right." It didn't make the loss of his own parents hurt any less, but it did make him less afraid about the future. He rolled onto his side, facing Masaki. He wasn't a back sleeper, anyway, but in this case, he wanted to be able to see Masaki as soon as he woke up. He didn't want to be too disoriented if he had nightmares, and he found Masaki's voice and presence soothing.

Masaki paused, then rolled onto his side. "I don't expect you to feel better right away. I just want you to know you're safe here. I'll still be here when you wake up, and then we'll eat supper." He rubbed Kichijouji's shoulder. "Then you can go back to bed and sleep as long as you want."

"Okay." Kichijouji realized he did feel safe. He also knew for sure in that moment that he wasn't imagining the flirting. In any other scenario, the other boy wouldn't touch him. In fact, the other boy would have scooted as far to the side of the bed as he could reach without falling out. Realizing that Masaki was like him in this way, Kichijouji smiled at his rescuer. "Thank you, Masaki-kun."

Masaki blushed. "It's nothing. I'm going to sleep for a while, too."

Despite Kichijouji's exhaustion, Masaki was the one to fall asleep first. He gazed at Masaki's peaceful face, focusing on Masaki instead of the weight of the grief hanging in the back of his mind.

Finally, Kichijouji's body gave in and allowed him to fall asleep. He willed himself to dream of Masaki's smile instead of blood, death, and his parents' pale, waxy faces.

* * *

 _ **Postscript A/N** : This story is AU-ish in the sense I'm having Kichijouji and Masaki be conscious of being in love from the beginning. Their love is obvious in the light novel—even Masaki's, although Jouji is the only party conscious of it—but I wanted to approach the relationship from the beginning instead of waiting until the end of the series._

 _Also, even though this first chapter is practically grim-dark, the rest of the story is a romantic drama and lighter in tone._


	2. A New Life

**Chapter 2**

Kichijouji spent three weeks floating through a massive life change. The Ichijou family secured temporary guardianship of Kichijouji, which in cases like these wasn't too difficult—especially when one was rich and powerful like Mr. Ichijou. Mrs. Ichijou and Masaki took Kichijouji to what remained of his house. It looked like a tornado had hit it. They helped him pick through the wreckage and collect what they could of his belongings and keepsakes from among his parents' possessions. The entire Ichijou family, including Masaki's two younger sisters, attended the funeral for Kichijouji's parents, which was a mass funeral for all who'd died in the invasion.

At the same time, Mr. Ichijou worked with the executor of the Kichijouji estate to arrange to sell the land the house had stood on. Then he took the money from Kichijouji's parents' bank account and opened a bank account for Kichijouji. Kichijouji was promptly hit with a crash course in money management.

As if that wasn't stressful enough, Kichijouji was enrolled in Masaki's junior high school, and three weeks to the day after his parents died, Kichijouji started school. He ended up enrolled in class A with Masaki.

He spent the entire day glued to Masaki's side, overwhelmed by the new school, the abundance of rich kids, and the nerve-shattering stress of taking on this change in addition to all the other ones he'd just faced.

The only thing he could say he liked about the situation was the school uniform. It was the typical sailor-style, just like his previous one, except that instead of black it was a deep shade of crimson. It matched his eyes, and even he realized it was flattering. But it was an awfully small plus amongst such a huge day of minuses.

At lunch time, Masaki led Kichijouji up to the school roof, which was apparently where all the cool kids ate at this school. Kichijouji had also learned right away that all the cool kids packed bento boxes and didn't eat at the cafeteria. This was the exact opposite of his old school.

Masaki and he ended up sitting against the outside wall of the stairwell. The day was sunny and warm. A cloudless blue sky stretched overhead. It would have been nice except for all the students peering their way. Kichijouji felt like a corpse being eyed up by a flock of hungry crows.

Masaki's three close friends, a girl and two boys, clustered around them as they picked out places to sit. Masaki made sure Kichijouji was by his side. Unbeknownst to Kichijouji, Masaki had been worrying all day about lunchtime. He'd always trusted his friends to be cool, but this was different and Masaki knew it. Their group had formed more or less naturally, and now Kichijouji was in the middle of them, unilaterally chosen by Masaki. What was more, all three of his friends were aces who came from one of the Eighteen Assistant Houses, and although they were kind to all their classmates, none of their close friends had ever been from outside of the top twenty-eight houses.

They were all in the same class, so they'd had a chance to size Kichijouji up all day. Masaki was worried about their reaction—not only because he didn't know how they might receive Kichijouji, but also because he didn't want anyone freezing out Kichijouji when he'd just lost everything and buried his parents.

"Wow, Ichijou-sama packed you a bento," the girl, Emi, said to Kichijouji. She was petite and blonde. "Lucky." She smiled, but Masaki couldn't tell what she was really thinking. On the surface she was always cheerful and sweet, even to people she hated.

"Yes," Kichijouji said. "She's an excellent cook." He wasn't going to make the mistake of sounding anything less that fully complimentary and grateful.

The taller boy—Hideo—was studying him intently. "Kichijouji, huh? I haven't heard that surname before. Who was your father?"

Kichijouji braced for impact. Hideo was a member of the Hassaku Clan. "My parents worked as magic researchers on Sado Island."

Hideo's eyebrow arched. "Both your parents?"

"Yes."

Hideo's gaze slid to Masaki and then back to Kichijouji. "I see. Your family worked for Masaki-kun's family. Basically."

 _Ugh. He's going to be an arrogant asshole._ Kichijouji affected a bored expression. "My parents researched weight-type magic in addition to organic body impact magic. I hear your family is tied to the Eighth Institute, where they study gravitational magic." Kichijouji always reverted to facts and research when under stress.

"Yeah." Hideo's gaze slid back to Masaki. Kichijouji wasn't quite sure what the boy was thinking, but he could tell Hideo wasn't kindly disposed toward him. Hideo was, in fact, Kichijouji's exact opposite—tall, muscular, athletic, and tanned. He wondered if that had anything to do with it, or if it was just that Hideo saw him as an invader.

"My father respected Jouji's parents and felt indebted to them for their research and service to our country," Masaki said. "It's not like the Kichijouji family worked _for_ us."

Emi paused with her chopsticks poised over her bento. "Oh, so that's why your father took in Kichijouji-kun. To pay off a debt."

" _No_ ," Masaki snapped.

"Why, then?" Emi asked, as though the situation were incomprehensible.

Masaki clenched his fist around his chopsticks. "Are you here to eat lunch or to pick on Jouji?"

Emi stared at him. "Why are you being so oversensitive? I'm just curious. I've never heard of one of the Ten Master Clans taking in an outsider."

Kichijouji's stomach was so clenched he had trouble eating. He took small bites, focusing on the maki sushi.

"'Jouji?'" Hideo echoed. "You're already to the point of not using honorifics? But it's only been three weeks, Masaki-kun!"

Kichijouji wondered how long Hideo and Masaki had been friends.

The second boy, Akio, who had short black hair, finally stirred. "They seem close already, Hideo-kun. And, well, Kichijouji-kun is _living_ with Masaki-kun."

A virtual storm cloud passed over Hideo's face. "Yeah. I got that little factoid."

Kichijouji wondered why Hideo seemed so offended by it.

Masaki felt an angry heat bloom across his face. "We're basically Kichijouji's new family. We don't need honorifics."

Emi let out an exasperated sigh and looked away. "If you're protecting Kichijouji-kun out of duty to your parents, you could just say that. We understand. You can't let your parents down."

"I'm not just being dutiful!" Masaki tossed down his bento box.

Emi's eyes widened in shock.

Masaki realized she'd never heard him yell at anybody, much less her. He scowled. "If you were in the same position as Jouji, I wouldn't be pressing the point and asking questions like you weren't sitting right there listening. You're cruel, Emi-chan."

Emi stood up unsteadily, mouth agape, and ran away, leaving her bento behind on the roof.

Masaki crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at his other two friends.

Akio looked torn. He glanced between the glowering Masaki and the retreating Emi several times.

Kichijouji was hit with the suspicion that Akio had a crush on Emi.

Akio finally stood up. "You were too hard on her. And don't throw out your old friends in your rush to protect your new one." Despite the severity of the words, Akio sounded and looked worried rather than angry. His forehead was furrowed.

Without another word, and also leaving behind his lunch, he dashed after Emi.

Hideo grabbed his lunch and stood as well. "It seems I'm not wanted here today. Later, man." He stalked off.

Kichijouji sighed and set down his chopsticks. His stomach was one big knot.

"No one wants to be around you when you're being an obnoxious idiot," Masaki called after Hideo. He picked up his bento box again. "It's not your fault, Jouji, so don't sigh. It was their decision how to behave."

The last thing Kichijouji wanted to do was get between Masaki and his friends. At the same time, he wasn't about to give up Masaki's protection. Masaki's support and care were the primary things that had enabled Kichijouji to live through the previous three weeks. If he hadn't had Masaki there to talk to him, play video games with him, accompany him to painful places, and give him secret hugs, he would have fallen apart.

And there was one more thing, too: the unspoken feelings between them.

Despite being given his own bedroom, Kichijouji had spent the first three nights sleeping in Masaki's room. A futon had been dragged in there for him. Mrs. Ichijou had been very understanding about Kichijouji's desire not to sleep in a strange house alone in a strange room. She had also easily caved into Masaki's requests to accommodate their guest.

A few times, when Kichijouji had experienced violent nightmares, Masaki had relocated to his futon or had him relocate to his bed.

A lot of hugging had occurred over the last three weeks. There had been no confession of romantic feelings, no kisses, and no other signs of dating. But boys simply did not hug and share beds—especially junior high school boys. Their entire culture forbade it.

And yet Masaki and Kichijouji were.

Because of their unspoken feelings, Kichijouji glanced around, verified they were alone on this part of the roof, and scooted closer to Masaki. "I suppose they think I will steal all your time."

"If they can't understand your grief, I don't want them around." Masaki wrapped his arm around Kichijouji's shoulders. "They can't imagine what it's like to lose their parents. They rely on their parents for everything. Especially Emi-chan. She cried once when her mother forgot to make umeboshi rice in her bento for her birthday." He sighed. "As for Hideo-kun, he wishes he came from a more important clan and was an eldest son. He's the second son, and his older brother gets all the attention. I know he's friends with me to compensate for feeling like he's not important. He can be clever and funny when he wants to be, but it's not his place to question my father's decisions about taking you in. Or to get jealous of you. That totally denies your pain."

Masaki glanced away. "Akio-kun just hates conflict. That's all. Did you notice he has a crush on Emi-chan? He takes her side even when she's wrong. She always ends up apologizing for the both of them."

Kichijouji stopped caring about all the drama the moment Masaki's arm was around him. He felt a warm blush settling in his cheeks. It was hard to be angry about school melodrama when his real problem was his parents were dead and he'd been torn away from the home he'd lived in ever since he was three years old. When nightmares about magical explosions and corpses tortured him at night, it was hard to worry about a jealous, over-compensating jerk. The only reason Kichijouji was even paying attention in class was because his parents would want him to keep his A average.

He leaned against Masaki's side. "You're right. They can't understand what I'm going through. I won't worry about them. I know you'll protect me." He hoped he didn't sound pathetic to Masaki. As a boy, Kichijouji was supposed to protect himself. But the objective of his declaration wasn't to hand away his personal responsibility but rather to show Masaki that he trusted and wanted him.

Masaki smiled, relieved. "That's right." He relaxed enough to take a bite of lunch. "I'll protect you. We're basically family now. Don't worry about anything else."

At this renewed declaration of protection, Kichijouji felt the aching need to snuggle right up to Masaki, but he couldn't very well do that in such a public place. He was already running a huge risk just to lean against Masaki, much less have Masaki's arm around his shoulders. _I can get closer to him at home._

Kichijouji wanted to be closer. Much, much closer. Everyone had always said that many teenagers were bundles of raging hormones, and in his case, it was true. Even in the midst of all his stress and disorientation, he felt the unmistakable burn of his attraction to Masaki.

"I'll let you protect me," Kichijouji murmured, a blush tingling in his cheeks. He focused on his lunch again, attacking the nigiri sushi with what passed for a legitimate appetite.

* * *

Over the next three days, the tension between Masaki and his friends didn't get any better. Hideo got grumpier and grumpier. In fact, by the third day, Hideo didn't even join them for lunch.

In the meantime, Masaki's feelings for Kichijouji only solidified more.

Soccer was especially hard that afternoon because Masaki couldn't stop glancing across the field at Kichijouji. Kichijouji had been assigned goalie, and he looked small and adorable in his soccer uniform. Luckily, they were on the same team, so Masaki didn't have to feel bad scoring goals on Kichijouji.

Hideo was on the other team, though, and he had a cold look in his eyes every time he glanced towards Masaki. Masaki tried to keep a good portion of the field between them.

In the middle of Masaki's play, Hideo intercepted the ball and charged Kichijouji's goal. Hideo was devastatingly good at soccer, unfortunately. He evaded defensive plays from all directions. Masaki gave chase, but he knew he wouldn't catch up.

Hideo kicked the ball directly at Kichijouji's face.

Masaki cried out.

One of the boys from Class B intercepted the ball instead: Rokugo Kosuke. He had cut across the gap at stunning speed and stopped the ball with his hands.

Their P.E. teacher blew his whistle at the illegal move.

All Kichijouji could do was feel profoundly grateful that he hadn't just gotten his nose broken by a soccer ball. Hideo had kicked at such a close range he hadn't had time to react. Even though Kosuke had been so close by, Kichijouji wasn't sure how he'd intercepted it, either. He assumed Kosuke had already been in motion.

Kosuke turned toward him with a worried expression, the ball still clutched in his hands. "Are you okay?"

Kichijouji nodded numbly.

Hideo had already covered the distance between them and bore down on them both. "What the hell? Can't you even defend the goal by yourself?" He jabbed Kichijouji's chest with his finger. "Why do you always need someone to save you?" He followed up with a hard, two-handed shove.

Kichijouji hadn't been prepared for the shove, and Hideo—being nearly twice his size—easily knocked him off his balance. Because of the angle he was standing at, his head bounced off the side pole. Despite his helmet, a sharp pain exploded through the back of his head and neck. A grunt escaped him. He had an instant pounding headache that radiated through his entire skull.

Kosuke threw down the ball and yanked Hideo away from Kichijouji. "Stop it, man! You clearly meant to hit him in the face, and now you're shoving him around? What's your problem?"

The P.E. teacher had reached them and had clearly overheard the accusation. "Is that true, Hassaku-san? Did you aim to hit Kichijouji-san in the face?"

Masaki sprinted to Kichijouji's side. "Hideo-kun's been angry at Kichijouji since he arrived here."

Hideo turned a withering glare on Masaki. "You traitor."

Kichijouji was wildly uncomfortable at all the attention. He rubbed his head, feeling hot at the pounding in his skull.

"Enough!" The P.E. teacher turned to Kichijouji. "Are you injured?"

"I got an instant migraine."

Kosuke bowed to the teacher. "I'll escort Kichijouji-san to the nurse's office, sensei."

"All right," the teacher said.

"Wait," Masaki protested. "I can – "

"There is no need to pull you both out of class to escort Kichijouji-san," the teacher said.

Kosuke turned to Kichijouji with a winsome smile. "Please come with me, Kichijouji-san. I'll lead you to the nurse's office and make sure you arrive there safely."

Dully, it dawned on Kichijouji that Kosuke was a handsome boy—tall and athletic like Masaki, except with shiny black hair and blue eyes. Like Masaki, he appeared older than his age, more like a first year high school student. And Kosuke was smiling at him. Softly.

Masaki felt the flush break out across his face. There were rumors Kosuke was gay. The way he looked at Kichijouji… _Stop poaching my boyfriend!_ He was miserably angry that he didn't have the nerve to come out of the closet, much less claim Kichijouji as his boyfriend. "I'll come visit you as soon as class is over."

Kichijouji smiled at Masaki. "Okay. Thank you."

Kosuke escorted Kichijouji away. He raised one eyebrow at Masaki as he left, as if to say _Why are you so angry?_

Kichijouji walked beside Kosuke in silence, his head throbbing.

"I'm sorry Hassaku is being a jerk," Kosuke murmured. He kept pace with Kichijouji despite his longer stride.

Kichijouji glanced up at Kosuke. He was getting _vibes_ off the boy, and he had to admit Kosuke was in general his type: tall, handsome, athletic, protective. However, his heart was already Masaki's. "He thinks I'm going to steal his good friend. I guess."

"Oh? Are you friends with Ichijou? I haven't seen you hang out with him before today," Kosuke said. "In fact, I'm certain I would have noticed such a beautiful person before. You're a transfer student, aren't you?"

Kichijouji couldn't help it. The compliment hit him squarely, especially given he'd been experiencing so much badness lately. He ended up blushing. "Ah—yes." He paused. "But I—I can't say that I'm beautiful." He was too taken off guard not to stutter.

Kosuke grinned and chuckled. "Modest and humble, too. I like you, Kichijouji-kun." Then he looked more serious and nodded. "It must be difficult for you. I was a transfer student in elementary school. The first day of school was terrible. I thought I might never go back to school after that day."

Kosuke opened the side door into the school, and they headed inside. "Then, in the last class period before the end of the day, a boy befriended me and kept me company during class cleanup. I joined his club and spent the rest of the year with a friend I could rely on."

He glanced away. "I know you're not in the same exact position because you already know Ichijou, but I would still like to be friends with you, Kichijouji-kun. You're a fascinating person."

"Fascinating?" Kichijouji sputtered. He blushed again, once again unable to help it. "I'm not sure what's fascinating." _You just met me, after all._ "But sure." He saw no reason not to make more friends. He couldn't rely solely on Masaki, especially since he couldn't guarantee he'd be in Masaki's class again next year.

They turned down the first hallway on the right. Kichijouji could see the sign for the nurse's office over the second door to the left.

"Most people would be angry at Hassaku, but you instantly tried to understand his point of view," Kosuke said. "That shows you're deep. You didn't fight back, either. You don't undertake conflicts lightly. That's the kind of friend I want to have."

Kichijouji stared up at Kosuke. _Is this guy for real?_ He felt like his head was swimming, and it didn't have anything to do with the splitting headache.

Kosuke opened the office door for Kichijouji and explained the situation to the nurse.

The nurse ushered Kichijouji into a bed and ran a hand-held scanner over his head. She wasn't a magic-based healer, so once she determined that he had a minor concussion, she merely gave him some painkillers and turned off the lights on Kichijouji's half of the room. There were two beds with a curtain partitioning them off.

Kosuke stayed with him.

Kichijouji lay down, his head still throbbing, and relaxed in the semi-darkness. "You can return to class. I'll probably be here for awhile."

Kosuke shook his head. "What kind of friend would I be if I did that? It's all right. I can stay with you. Besides, it's helping the nurse out if I keep an extra eye on you." He smiled.

 _Until she decides you just want to skip class and then kicks you out._ Kichijouji offered a tentative smile in return. "Thanks. Just keep in mind it'll be more like an hour before I can return to class."

That caused Kichijouji to realize he was stuck in his gym clothes. "My clothes! I don't have them."

The sudden exclamation just hung in the room, and Kichijouji found himself hyperaware that to a passerby, that might sound wrong.

"Oh. I'll get your clothes." Kosuke stood. "Don't worry. I'll come back. You need to be able to change back into your school uniform, after all. What's your locker combination?"

Kichijouji paused, but he doubted Kosuke would remember his combination even a few hours later. Plus he could always reprogram it. "151-324-211. And thank you."

He watched Kosuke leave and wondered how he'd managed to gain the romantic attention of not one but two boys. At his old school, there had been no one. Not that he would have had the courage to date any of them. Even after decades of effort toward gay rights, things were not equal. World War III and the loss of half the world's population had caused people to grow more conservative, especially in Japan. Gay couples could legally marry, but there was still a high level of pressure upon children to start hetero-normative families and carry on the clan lineage through traditional means, most especially in magical families. The non-magicians were far more free to engage in same-sex marriage and to utilize adoption than the magicians.

That said, when Kichijouji had come out to his parents six months earlier, his mother had said, "Oh, I know, honey. Just find yourself a good man."

His father had said, "Well, I want you to be happy. But would you consider genetic engineering so your children can still carry our DNA?"

Kichijouji had dutifully agreed to the arrangement. They might not be one of the Ten Master Clans, but they were strong magicians. He had a duty to pass on his genes.

Now his parents were gone, he had no idea what the Ichijou family thought of same-sex marriage, and a complete stranger was hitting on him.

Kosuke returned ten minutes later wearing his own uniform and carrying Kichijouji's. As soon as Kichijouji saw Kosuke in the school uniform, he understood just how handsome he really was. It was far more flattering on him than the gym clothes had been.

When Kosuke saw Kichijouji, he smiled. It was a very gentle smile. He crossed the room and set the folded clothes on the bed. "Here. Now you can change clothes when you're ready. Is your headache any better? If the painkillers don't start working soon, we'll have to tell the nurse."

Kichijouji watched Kosuke settle in the chair by his bed. "Only slightly." He glanced at the clock. "It has another five minutes before it really kicks in."

A tranquil silence filled the room. Despite the fact Kichijouji had given his heart to Masaki, he felt relaxed and safe with Kosuke there. It was nice having someone notice him.

Kichijouji stirred and spoke. "I forgot to thank you for saving me. If you hadn't intercepted that ball, my nose would have been broken. So thank you."

Kosuke shook his head. "You don't need to thank me. That much I would have done for anybody." He grinned. "Walking you to the nurse's office, on the other hand… I only did that because I like you and want to get to know you. So, don't thank me for that, either. It was selfish of me. Ichijou seemed to mind, too. Why do you think that was?"

Kichijouji blushed so hotly his cheeks burned. He hoped most of it was hidden in the semi-darkness. "Well, ah—I mean, I live with Masaki-kun." He was so self-conscious he used the honorific when he didn't have to. "He's, um . . ." He didn't dare admit that Masaki and he had feelings for each other, especially when they hadn't verbalized them. "Well, he saved me. During the invasion. You know, because he worked as a volunteer solider." He figured the entire school had heard about that. Thirteen-year-olds didn't often end up in combat, even on a volunteer basis. There had been a lot of publicity.

"Ah, so that's how you met, and why Ichijou is so interested in you," Kosuke said. "He probably feels responsible for you." He smiled. "Not to mention it sounds very romantic, the way you two met. I'm sure if I had met you in such a way I would have fallen in love with you."

Although Kichijouji had been sure he was being hit on before, now it was so obvious that it was unavoidable. He dodged what may have been an implied question about Masaki's feelings by instead asking a question of his own. The only question he could have: "You—you would have?"

Kosuke nodded and smiled angelically. "Mm-hmm." He winked. "You'll hear rumors that I'm gay. They're true."

Kichijouji was utterly blown away. Here he was unable to tell anyone except his parents. Masaki couldn't say anything at all, apparently, even to Kichijouji. And Kosuke had just charged forward and claimed this part of his identity—even when with a complete stranger.

Kichijouji felt a raging wave of utter envy. _I wish I could be so brave! And bold._ After three weeks, Kichijouji and Masaki hadn't even kissed, although Kichijouji felt sure they were technically secret boyfriends.

Meanwhile, Kichijouji suspected Kosuke was laying foundation to ask him out in a week or two.

He also realized that his lack of reply and his miserable blush had likely verified for Kosuke that he, too, was gay.

Kosuke chuckled. "That's okay. It's even more reason that we should be friends. We've got to stick together, haven't we? Even if you don't want to date me, I still want to be good friends. Besides, I suspect that you like Ichijou. If you think there's even a small chance, you should go for it. I'm a romantic."

In a moment of stunned silence, Kichijouji realized he'd been wrong about the timing: Kosuke had just indirectly offered to be his boyfriend. He had thought he was blown away before. Now he was more like a flag fluttering away from a flagpole during a wind storm. He stared up at Kosuke with wide eyes, blushing and unable to speak.

The nurse's office door opened, and Kichijouji heard footsteps.

Masaki ran in. "Jouji! Are you okay?" He froze when he saw Kosuke sitting beside Kichijouji's bed. His gaze flitted back and forth from one to the other. As he took in their expressions, his chest seized up. "Rokugo. What're you doing here?"

Kosuke stood. "I was concerned about Kichijouji-kun. He has a mild concussion."

Kichijouji glanced back and forth between the two boys. They were nearly of identical height and stature and both handsome. It was merely that one had auburn hair and the other black hair. Kichijouji felt the tension radiating off of Masaki. "The pain medicine is beginning to kick in," he offered. He wasn't sure if an argument would break out, but he doubted it. That would require Masaki to be obvious about his feelings. "Rokugo-kun went and got my uniform for me." He realized the two comments were totally disconnected from each other, but he was trying to fill the sudden heavy silence in the room.

Masaki's shoulders slumped. "You're feeling a little bit better? That's good." He looked away. "I didn't know what Hideo-kun was going to do. I should have stopped him myself."

"That's all right," Kosuke said. "People need more than one friend, you know. Kichijouji-kun and I friends now, too." He glanced between Kichijouji and Masaki. "I think I'd better be going. You probably want to be alone." He glided away.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Masaki protested.

Kosuke didn't answer. He just slipped out the door.

As soon as he did, Masaki bowed his head. "I'm sorry, Jouji. I said I would protect you. I didn't."

Kichijouji took in Masaki's utterly defeated expression and rushed to reassure him. "You were all the way across the field. You couldn't have protected me without using magic, and then you would have gotten into huge trouble."

Masaki plopped down on the end of Kichijouji's bed. "But I didn't keep my promise."

Kichijouji wanted to move so he could get to Masaki, but his head still hurt too much. Instead, he held out his hand, signaling Masaki to get closer. "It's okay. Really." He wasn't sure how to get Masaki to stop beating up himself. "I might need your help when we get home. Maybe a cold washcloth. Or a hot one? I feel very light-sensitive, and my neck hurts, too."

Masaki instantly relocated and clutched Kichijouji's hand. "Of course. I'll do anything I can. And the next time Hideo-kun and I are alone, I'm going to beat him up."

Kichijouji smiled up at Masaki. It wasn't so much because Masaki was going to beat up Hideo. It was because they were holding hands. They hadn't done that since the first day they'd met, and admittedly, that had been different. Masaki had been leading him away from the bomb shelter while he was in shock.

Kichijouji gave Masaki's hand a gentle squeeze. "Thank you. I know you'll take good care of me."

Masaki clung to Kichijouji's hand in return. "Well, I did swear to."


	3. Closer

**Chapter 3**

The next morning, Masaki set out to find Hideo. It didn't matter that they'd been friends for two years now; Masaki wasn't going to let Hideo's jealousy land Kichijouji in the nurse's office again—or worse, in the emergency room.

He knew exactly where Hideo would be this early in the school day: the school's dojo. Hideo was a member of the kendo team, and they always practiced before school.

Hideo was at the outside trough, where all the students involved in athletics could stop to wash their hands or faces or even grab a quick drink of water. He wore his gi and hakama, but his helmet and padding had already been removed.

Hideo glanced up at Masaki, frowned, and turned to face him. That's when Masaki realized Hideo had a black eye.

Masaki stopped short. "What happened?"

Hideo's gaze slid away, and a miserable flush erupted across his face. "What do you think happened? That punk-ass Rokugo jumped me on the way to school this morning. Shit, man. What's up with you guys and protecting Kichijouji-kun?"

Masaki held up his hands. "It's not like we talked about it or anything. I had no idea Rokugo was going to do that." _What is it with this guy? He's even poaching my revenge!_

Hideo glared at Masaki. "Didn't you? He rushed right in and saved your cute little boyfriend yesterday. He walked him to the nurse's office. He didn't come back to class." He smirked. "Everyone knows Rokugo is gay." He tilted his head. "Maybe I'm not the one you oughta be beating up, huh?"

Masaki flushed. "Well, you didn't exactly come out innocent in this situation, did you? You tried to beat up Jouji and get away with it. You wanted to teach him a lesson. I thought I made it clear I'm not friends with bullies."

Hideo stared at Masaki.

And stared.

And stared.

His eyes were so wide it was nearly comical. Finally, he spoke. "Dude. You didn't—you didn't deny that Kichijouji is your boyfriend!"

Masaki almost fell over. "Why should I? You're not serious. You're just trying to make me mad." He made a fist jokingly. "You want me to give you another black eye to match the first one? You act like you want me to hate you now. That can't be true. We've been friends for too long."

Instead of tensing up more, Hideo relaxed, his shoulders dropping. "Oh. Man, don't scare me like that. I mean, yeah, I'm picking on you. But the way you've been acting around Kichijouji! Dude, that's not—that's not cool, you know? I mean, yeah, guys can marry guys and all. But you're the _eldest son_ of one of the Ten Master Clans _._ And you're badass. And tough. And already have live combat experience. And—" He shook his head. "Sorry, man. You had me all freaked out that you might actually have a crush on this new guy. I should've known better."

Masaki felt the social pressure hit him squarely. Hideo's attitude was common to the point of being oppressive. But that wasn't the point here. "You didn't see him the day we found him." Masaki looked away and rubbed the back of his neck. "It was terrible. Everyone else was dead. He lost his parents, his house, and his school. The next day someone made him identify his parents' bodies. You're talking about not cool. That's what's not cool. It's a wonder he's not scared to go anywhere ever again." He met Hideo's gaze. "When we met, you didn't have any friends either. You should know what it's like for Jouji. He had to leave all his friends behind."

Hideo's head dropped. He stared at the ground. "Ah, man." His voice was quiet. "That's—yeah, that's really bad." For a long moment, he didn't say anything. "I'm sorry. I had no idea." He shook his head. "I mean, of course I had no idea. I should've asked or something." He dragged his head up. "I'll apologize to Kichijouji. But seriously, dude. Don't forget the friends you've already got."

"It's just his first week of school," Masaki said. Then he laughed. "Maybe I went a little overboard on you."

Hideo grinned. Then he reached out and popped Masaki's shoulder lightly. "Hey, man. I get that." He headed back into the dojo. "Even though I was picking on you, I'm serious about Rokugo. I think he wants to sweep Kichijouji off his feet, so tell him to keep up his guard." He flicked a wave at Masaki and bowed at the dojo door before entering.

Masaki flicked a wave back. _You're not wrong._ Irritation rose within him. _That Rokugo! Beating up my friend before I can. How dare he? Who does he think he is? This was my problem to solve._

He walked away. _And I could have done it without violence. All I really needed to do was talk to Hideo._

* * *

Masaki's group walked up to the roof for lunch, minus Hideo.

"Where is Hideo-kun?" Emi asked.

"I don't know," Masaki said. "Maybe he's not coming."

When they reached their spot, Hideo was already sitting there. He stood nervously.

Kichijouji braced himself, even though Masaki had indicated everything should be okay.

Hideo walk over to him. "Kichijouji, I'm sorry. I didn't understand."

Kichijouji looked up at Masaki, then at Hideo. Masaki had said he'd had A Talk with Hideo, but he hadn't gotten the details yet. "You're sorry for trying to flatten my face with a soccer ball?"

Hideo hung his head. "I thought you were seducing Masaki-kun and turning him gay."

 _Turning him gay?_ Kichijouji thought. _How the hell would that be possible?_

"I just wanted you to leave Masaki-kun alone," Hideo continued. "I'm sorry. I didn't know about your parents. Masaki-kun would have acted the same for any of us if that happened." He bowed.

Emi brought her fist down on the top of Hideo's head. "Idiot!"

She accidentally smashed Hideo's face into Kichijouji's bento. The bento box flew from Kichijouji's hands and burst open when it hit the roof. Pieces of maki sushi flew everywhere.

Emi gasped.

Hideo jerked upright. "Ow! What the fuck, Emi-chan? Now look what you did!"

Kichijouji stared at his ruined bento box for a moment. Then he glanced at Hideo. The accidental revenge tickled him. He smirked. Watching Hideo rub the back of his head and his nose at the same time made it even funnier. He ended up laughing.

Emi got down on her knees and did her best to scoop the ruined lunch back into the box. "I'm sorry! I'll give you part of my bento."

"I will, too," Masaki said.

"Me, too," Hideo said instantly.

"That won't be necessary," a smooth voice interjected before Kichijouji could respond. Kosuke glided up to them. He held a bento box tied shut with a pink ribbon. He balanced it on one finger, underneath the center of the ribbon, and held it out to Kichijouji. "I made you this." He smiled gently. "I might never have had the courage to give it to you were it not for this precipitous event." He bowed. "I hope you enjoy it."

 _Precipitous?_ Kichijouji thought, struck by the fancy vocabulary. _Are you sure you're in junior high school?_ He was glad he was good at vocabulary lessons or he wouldn't have known the word. _Seriously, is this guy for real?_

Dutifully, Kichijouji accepted the box. It was blatant flirting. After all, making bento boxes was something that girlfriends generally did for boyfriends. But seeing as how he'd just lost his lunch, Kichijouji wasn't inclined to turn down the offer. Also, he wasn't sure he could bring himself to be rude. "Thank you." He bowed.

Kosuke gave Kichijouji a beaming smile. "No need to thank me. Just enjoy it." He walked off with a wave. "I'll see you later."

Kichijouji sat down with Masaki and his friends and opened the bento box. He stared at the offerings. "He _made_ this?" It looked just as good as what a mother would offer after a decade's worth of practice. It contained neatly fashioned maki sushi, little hotdogs fashioned like squids, and rice balls decorated to look like bunny rabbits.

Emi let out a shriek. "It's perfect!"

Hideo wrapped his arms around himself and rubbed them. "Gross. Why didn't you tell this freak to get away from us, Masaki-kun?"

"What am I supposed to do about this?" Masaki protested. "Being nice isn't a good reason to beat someone up!"

Kichijouji, who had officially decided to rib and tease Hideo forever, offered him a sly smirk. "Well, at least I get a lunch, considering your nose ended up in the middle of mine and the birds are now eating it."

"Hey, it's not my fault! It was Emi-chan." Hideo turned red and shot a glare at Emi.

"I said I was sorry," Emi said.

Masaki realized he was staring at the perfect bento box with a feeling of distressed inadequacy. "Who is this guy, anyway?"

"Maybe it doesn't taste very good," Akio offered.

"Try it," Emi urged Kichijouji.

"All right." Kichijouji nabbed his chopsticks. " _Itadakimasu_." He took a bite of sushi. It was perfect. So perfect, in fact, that he was sure his expression said so.

Masaki wilted.

"Ooh, why can't a cute boy make me a bento?" Emi clenched her fists. "It's so unconventional, so romantic – "

"So gay!" Hideo yelled. He raked his hands through his hair. "I can't stand it! That guy!"

Kichijouji took a bite of the rice ball. It was the perfect mix of sweet and tart. It was all he could do to not make an "mmm" sound of taste bud pleasure. _This is even better than Masaki's mom's, and that's saying something. Did he really make this all by himself?_

"I heard Rokugo's mom is a professional chef, but I didn't believe it until now," Emi said. She practically sparkled. "To be this polished, he must've learned how to make everything when he was little."

Masaki groaned.

Kichijouji hid a smile by taking another bite of a rice ball. _I wonder if Masaki will make me a bento box now. That would be romantic. I could try to make him one, too._ He knew his would be ugly, but he felt confident he could make it taste good. _Food is as much science as art._ "Maybe so. Either way, no one had to sacrifice part of their lunch for me."

"Do you really feel okay eating that guy's bento?" Hideo asked. "He'll think you like him now."

Kichijouji narrowed his eyes at Hideo. _It must be nice thinking it's so easy to turn down a bento. Girls will be shoving bento boxes at you all through junior high and high school. Probably college, too. You're handsome and athletic and a kendo champion. But boys like me still get picked on, even after all these years and the legalization of gay marriage in Japan._ "If a nice girl walked up to you and offered you a bento after your lunch was ruined, would you look her in the face and flatly tell her no?"

Hideo blushed. "But she's a girl! There's a double standard. I'm not supposed to make her cry, am I?"

"If Yukiko-chan offered you a bento, you'd lap it up even if it tasted like sand," Emi teased.

Masaki snorted and burst out laughing. So did Akio.

"Hey," Hideo whined.

"Boys have feelings, too," Kichijouji said flatly. "Maybe instead of making fun of Rokugo, you should admire him for having the balls to be open about his preferences in a school of magicians' kids. He takes way more flak for it here than he would in a public school, but he's confident in who he is."

Masaki paled. _I'm not confident in who I am?_ Then he reconsidered. _Okay, so I'm not, at least not when it comes to dating. But is that a deal breaker? How many people can be like Kosuke?_

"Then you do like Rokugo!" Emi squealed. She clapped her hands together.

"You damn yaoi fangirl," Hideo muttered. He crossed his arms over his chest. "It's all well and good if you're gay, Kichijouji. You aren't from one of the Ten Master Clans or Eighteen Assistant Houses."

"Gee, thanks." Kichijouji smirked. "But you know, Rokugo _is_ from the Eighteen Assistant Houses. Or did you manage to forget that he's like you in that way?"

"I never said I approved of that guy being gay. I said it would be okay if you were." Hideo looked away with a scowl. "He's got no business flaunting it."

Masaki held in a sigh. "Well, it's none of our business. We don't know how his parents feel, either."

 _So now there's a double standard because my blood isn't as fancy as yours?_ Not that Kichijouji hadn't faced such discrimination before. It was one reason why he was determined to finish his parents' research. He was certain—dead certain—that he could discover one of the Cardinal Codes. They weren't just some frilly theory. They were fact. And he would prove it. Once he did that, not only would he advance the understanding of magical science and research, he would prove to the world that he and his family's lineage of scientists were worthy of respect.

In the meantime, he picked up a hotdog-squid and launched it in a beautiful arc. It poinked Hideo right on the nose. "Perfect form," he said—in English.

Hideo blinked and then laughed. "Okay, I was being an asshole. I didn't mean to imply that your blood is less important than mine. It's only – "

" – only your parents won't let you choose who to marry, will they, Hideo-kun?" Emi said. She ate a bite of her rice ball. "Even if Yukiko-chan throws herself into your arms, you can't pick her over the bride your parents already selected for you."

Hideo bowed his head.

Masaki was dismayed. "Nice going, Emi-chan. Now he'll be depressed for a whole day before he's back to himself."

Kichijouji relaxed again and finished his perfect bento box. His mind had already wandered off to the problem of the Cardinal Code. His parents' deaths had interrupted his work on it, but after three weeks of intense grief, he realized he wanted to return to working on it. It was the only link he had left to his previous life. Besides, he wanted to make his parents proud.

The problem of Kosuke's interpretation of Kichijouji's accepting his bento box faded to the back of his mind.

* * *

That evening, Kichijouji ate supper in a daze, his mind still churning over formulas and calculations. The rest of the day at school had been uneventful—except for the small, two-minute talk with Kosuke in which he assured him the bento box was good.

After supper, Kichijouji retired to his bedroom, where he poured over homework for two hours. It was difficult to work on his Cardinal Code project at home, but Mr. Ichijou was making arrangements for him to work as in intern at the Kanawaza Magic Research Institute. Not only would this provide Kichijouji with personal income, but also it would give him a chance to work using the institute's super computers. This meant more complex calculations and better 3D models.

He had finished up his math homework when a soft knock sounded on his door. "Come in," he called as he saved his homework to his tablet.

Masaki nervously slipped inside and shut the door. "Hey. Doing your homework?" He could already feel his elevated pulse in his neck. _Don't screw this up._

Kichijouji glanced up and smiled. "Just finished." He stood. Oftentimes, they played video games in Masaki's room once they were both finished with homework.

Masaki rubbed the back of his neck and let out a little laugh. "What, really? I've still got some to go. Maybe you can help me with it. I'm a little stuck." He realized Kichijouji would happily help him, and then he would never get to talk about what he wanted to talk about. "Ah – but that's not why I'm here."

"Sure. I'll help." Kichijouji tilted his head. "But, okay. What is it?" He had the uneasy feeling that Masaki might be angry that he accepted the bento box from Kosuke. Granted, he and Masaki hadn't declared their feelings or kissed. But with all the hugs and embraces, Kichijouji had to assume that day was coming.

Masaki clasped his hands behind his back and turned away. "Oh, it's nothing. I mean, nothing for you to be worried about. It's not serious. No – well, it is, but –" The back of his neck broke a sweat. He turned back around. "Jouji, how do you feel about – Rokugo?" He froze. _'About Rokugo?' Where did that come from? That's not what I meant to ask!_

Kichijouji blushed faintly. _Is he jealous?_ "I don't feel anything special. He's nice. And he's trying to be my friend." He had to amend that. "Okay, he trying to be my boyfriend. But I'm not interested in him that way."

Masaki felt he could have fainted with relief. "You're not?"

"No." Kichijouji smiled up at Masaki. "Besides, I've only known him for one day." He paused, wondering if he should be more blunt. Kosuke was certainly more blunt. Kosuke would say, _I'm already in love with you. Can we just stop hiding the fact we're boyfriends already?_ Or Kosuke would walk right up and kiss him, perhaps. Kichijouji, though, didn't have the previous experience Kosuke apparently had. And so he ended up remaining silent.

"I'd only known you for one day when I – " Masaki broke off, suddenly embarrassed and second-guessing himself. He looked at the floor.

Kichijouji felt internally scrambled. _Damn! He took that the wrong way._ He edged closer. "I know. You started taking care of me the moment you laid eyes on me. But that was different. You stayed by my side." He realized Kosuke had stayed by his side in the nurse's office and rushed to clarify. "For hours. All the rest of the day." He paused, stuck back in the moment where he was sure he was going to die, but instead Masaki showed up and offered him his hand. He stared at the middle of Masaki's chest. "You said we'd stick together forever."

Masaki caught Kichijouji up in his arms and hugged him tightly. "We will. I didn't mean that I didn't believe you about Rokugo. That would be rotten. I do believe you. I just –I'm trying to say –" He gave up and just held on.

Kichijouji could tell that they weren't quite communicating. He suspected they kept misinterpreting each other. But the moment Masaki hugged him, it ceased to matter to him. He ran his arms around Masaki's waist and embraced him just as tightly. It had been several days since they'd shared a hug—exactly four. He knew. He'd been counting. As a result, he pressed himself against Masaki's chest, tucking his head against his shoulder. Masaki gave good hugs, and Kichijouji never felt safer or happier than in Masaki's arms.

Masaki let out a sigh and stroked Kichijouji's back, still clinging to him. The tightness of Kichijouji's returning hug reassured him. "I'm always going to be here. I promise. And the Ichijou don't break their promises."

A tiny little sigh escaped Kichijouji at the feeling of Masaki's hand caressing his back. "I'll hold you to that." He smiled, although he knew Masaki couldn't see it. "And I believe you. I'll always be at your side, too."

"I'd like that," Masaki said softly. "I want you here. I – I've never felt this way before." He hugged Kichijouji with all his strength for a moment before going back to stroking Kichijouji's back. "You're different. It's different."

Kichijouji analyzed the words carefully, even as he continued to hug Masaki. _He just said his feelings are different. I've been right all along. This is definitely romantic._ He thought he saw why nothing else had occurred, though. _He realizes it's different, but maybe he hasn't figured out what it means yet. Maybe he's confusing himself with his reactions. Does he even realize he has these preferences?_

Based on the current evidence, Kichijouji assumed Masaki was bisexual. _If he hasn't realized it yet, and if he doesn't understand his feelings for me yet, then I shouldn't push. If I do, I might scare him away._

Kichijouji decided that as long as he got lots of hugs in the meantime, he could wait. He lifted his head and smiled at Masaki. "I understand," he said, opting for generality. "I think you're special."

Masaki felt his smile stretch at Kichijouji's warm words and sweet smile. "You're special. I know you are. That's why I got so frustrated with Hideo-kun because he couldn't understand."

Kichijouji really wanted to cup Masaki's cheek or caress his face at the sight of that smile. "Thank you." He grinned. "You seem to have Hideo-kun under control now." He lifted and eyebrow. "Did you give him that black eye?"

Masaki frowned. "No. Rokugo did." He looked away. "I was thinking about it, but when I saw how Hideo-kun actually felt, all I had to do was talk to him. Rokugo would have known that if he had known Hideo-kun. He had no business roughing up my friend like that. Rokugo is interfering in everything."

Then he glanced at Kichijouji and grumbled, "I'll give it to that guy, though. Rokugo knows you're special, and he's not going to stop paying you all this attention. What I can't figure out is why Rokugo noticed you're special, and I know it, but no one else seems to know."

Kichijouji wondered if this might be more proof that that Masaki didn't understand his own romantic and sexual feelings. _No one else knows because no one else has a crush on me._ He smiled at Masaki. "It doesn't matter. If you know, then that's good enough for me." He lay his head against Masaki's shoulder again.

Masaki melted.


	4. First Date

**Chapter 4**

The following day, Kichijouji reported to the art club for the first time. All students were required to pick at least one club to join, and Kosuke had invited Kichijouji to the art one. Kichijouji enjoyed art, but considering all the time he spent on magic research, he had little time for it. As a result, he jumped on the opportunity to stretch his art skills.

When he agreed to the club, he'd had no idea that the time slot would conflict with Masaki's club. Masaki had wanted him to join the culture club. However, Masaki had been a good sport about it, so Kichijouji entered the club room without a trace of guilt. Easels had been set up around the room, and Kosuke introduced Kichijouji to everyone before gesturing to the easel beside his.

Kichijouji plopped onto the stool that had been provided. Some of the other students were standing, but Kichijouji preferred to sit. He hadn't worked with watercolors for so long he was embarrassed for anyone to see his work.

Kosuke stood and worked with oil paints on one of the still life arrangements set up around the room. "So, have you talked to Ichijou?"

"About what?" Kichijouji opted to play coy, although he suspected he knew exactly what Kosuke meant. He glanced around furtively, but the other students were chatting and joking as they worked. He opened a case of color tubes the school had provided and picked through them.

Kosuke raised his eyebrows in an expression of polite concern. "I thought for certain Ichijou would want to talk to you about his feelings after how jealous he got yesterday. Am I wrong?"

There were times Kichijouji wanted to curse the fact he always blushed easily, and the pale complexion of his skin always made the blushes that much more obvious. He swallowed a sigh as his cheeks burned. He decided he would try to dodge. "You think Masaki was jealous of the bento you made me?"

"Very," Kosuke virtually purred. He smiled.

Kichijouji just knew his blush had to be one shade darker now. "Masaki takes good care of me," he dodged again. Then he nearly choked on his own spit. The phrase 'taking good care of' could certainly be construed as sexual in nature.

Kosuke glanced at the others in the room. They were still chatting between each other, not paying the least attention to Kichijouji or him. He looked back at Kichijouji and murmured, "But does he love you?"

Kichijouji nearly died. _Shit! He really did take it sexually._ "I didn't mean it in that way!" he hissed. "And yes, he does love me."

"Ah." Kosuke concentrated on his painting for a few moments, carefully adding dimension to the fruit in the still life. He smiled slightly again, his gaze still on his work. "Then I have competition."

Kichijouji forced himself to start creating his palette. For a moment, he imagined two incredibly handsome boys vying for the right to take him on a date. It made him feel guilty, but part of him was deeply flattered. He had a short daydream in which Kosuke kissed him, and as a result Masaki faced off with Kosuke, publically declaring his feelings and then whisking Kichijouji off to a private place. They would share several passionate kisses, and Masaki would tell him again how special he was . . .

Two very long minutes passed before Kichijouji realized he'd failed to reply to Kosuke.

"I'll take that as permission to try," Kosuke said lightly.

Kichijouji snapped out of his dream world and slanted Kosuke a flat gaze. "I _am_ with Masaki." The boldness of the declaration made his heart thud.

"If you're sure, I won't stand in your way," Kosuke said. He worked on his painting. "But as my parents say, we're a long way from marrying age. Many things might change in the meantime." He winked at Kichijouji. "I can marry who I wish. Can you?"

Kichijouji had almost gotten his paint brush to the canvas, only to end up stopping an inch shy. His gaze ended up pinned to the white, blank material. "My parents simply told me to find a good man and be happy." In his mind, he saw his mother's understanding smile. He lowered his brush. The weight of knowing that his parents would never meet any of his boyfriends or his future husband settled on Kichijouji squarely.

Kosuke set down his brush and rested his hand on Kichijouji's shoulder. "They sound wonderful. I'm sorry I reminded you of your grief. That wasn't my intention."

Kichijouji glanced up at him. "Yeah. They were wonderful. The Ichijous are really kind, but they can't actually replace my parents. I'm grateful that they saved me. More than I can say. But that doesn't mean I don't miss my parents. Of course."

"Of course," Kosuke echoed. "You don't have to try to erase your parents out of gratitude to anyone. That would be wrong." He squeezed Kichijouji's shoulder gently. "You're allowed to miss your parents forever. I know I would miss mine forever."

Kichijouji gave Kosuke a small smile. Even though Kosuke was apparently dead set on competing with Masaki to date him, Kichijouji had to admit that Kosuke was understanding and kind. And Kosuke had claimed, at least, that they could be friends, regardless. "Thank you."

Kosuke inclined his head. "It's nothing. Even if you spend the rest of your life with Ichijou, I'll still care about you. I've never met anyone like you before, and I know I won't again." His lips quirked. "My future boyfriends will have to hear about you. I hope they can endure the comparison."

Kichijouji understood in that moment that Kosuke was probably the most suave and debonair boy he'd ever met. If Kichijouji hadn't already been in love with Masaki, he would have been swept off his feet by this guy. _This is not going to be pretty. Kosuke really will go toe-to-toe with Masaki._ Once again, he had a guilty flash of feeling complimented. At the same time, he was uneasy about what the competition might devolve into.

Considering he'd just buried his parents a few weeks ago, Kichijouji didn't remotely have enough energy to deal with the situation. _Masaki and Kosuke can face off. I won't intervene until I have more energy back._

Still, Kichijouji managed to muster some pluck. "They might punch you in the nose for making them listen to you babble about some mystery boy." His lips quirked.

Kosuke laughed.

* * *

Once time was up, Kichijouji cleaned and stored his supplies. Kosuke was determined to escort Kichijouji to wherever Masaki was waiting for him, and he didn't listen to Kichijouji's protests. By this point in the afternoon, Kichijouji was tired and hungry and not up to the task of fending off Kosuke's bulldozer full of charm.

They exited the club room together and discovered Masaki out in the hallway, leaning against a window with his arms crossed.

Masaki pushed away from the wall with a grin and put his hand on Kichijouji's shoulder. "Ah, there you are. I'm hungry! Aren't you? I'm glad we're meeting everybody at the café." He offered Kosuke a small bow. "Maybe you can join us some other time. If you're going to be friends with Jouji, then we're going to be good friends, too." He'd been thinking of this strategy all day.

Kichijouji looked between the two taller boys. For a moment, he imagined two tomcats: one solid black with blue eyes and the other a reddish-orange tabby with green eyes. The cats glared at each other, silently marking off their territory. They hunkered down, growling deep in their chests, except the tabby was somehow managing to wear a smiling theater mask at the same time.

"I'm starving," Kichijouji admitted, ignoring the fluffed up fur and bared fangs.

Masaki linked arms with Kichijouji and made off with him. "Then we'll see you later!" he called at Kosuke and waved.

Kichijouji allowed himself to be whisked away. Having his arm linked with Masaki's in public was plenty enough of a payoff for having two tomcats growling over him like he was a female cat in heat.

Once they were in the stairwell, Kichijouji grinned up at Masaki. "It's amazing how you can smile while pissed off. You smile when challenged, you smile when fighting back. Most of the time, you seem unflappable." _Except when we're at home and you're stuttering over our secret romance._

Masaki laughed. "That's just how I am. Like how you have a little frown on your face when you're working out high-level science. Other people might think you're grumpy, but you're just on the trail of an exciting idea."

Kichijouji grinned at him again, touched. _You notice small details about me. You do love me!_ "Yeah. Apparently I do that. My mom said so, too." He gave Masaki's arm a squeeze. "Are we really meeting up with everyone at a café? Or did you just say that to get rid of Rokugo?"

"You got me. I just said we were meeting everybody so Rokugo wouldn't invite himself to our after-school meal. He would, too. Pushy jerk. Although I really meant it when I said I'd get to know him. I want to know everything I can about my competition."

They had made it into the front courtyard by this point, but at Masaki's final sentence, Kichijouji stopped in his tracks. "You admitted it," he said, shocked. "You—you came right out and said it." He realized then just how much he needed to hear it aloud. Better yet, this meant Masaki was conscious of both his feelings and what they meant. "You admitted he's competing with you to be—" Here he choked on the word. But he powered ahead, taking a page out of Kosuke's book. He blushed hotly. "To be my boyfriend."

Masaki flushed. "I-I never meant it to seem like I didn't know how I felt. I just can't…get the words out." He scowled with determination. "But I'll rot in hell before I let Rokugo win. I'm not giving you up!"

Kichijouji was so thrilled by Masaki's declaration that he laughed. "Good! Don't give me up. All I want is to be with you." The words just popped right out. He would have given anything to be in a private place so they could hug or, better yet, kiss.

Masaki clasped Kichijouji's hand tightly. "You'll be by my side forever. I'll make a way for that to be true."

At having his hand clasped, Kichijouji shot across the courtyard, taking the least occupied route off of school grounds. He wanted to hold Masaki's hand, and he wanted to do it with as a few observers as possible. Public displays of affection were not allowed on school property, after all, and he didn't want them to get jumped by the disciplinary committee.

Once they were safely off on a side street and away from the prying eyes of their classmates, Kichijouji relaxed and squeezed Masaki's hand. "Good," he murmured again. "I want us to be together when we're old and gray and wrinkly and stubborn. And insisting on taking the hottest soaks that any hot spring can offer."

Masaki laughed. "You'll work out the best health benefits and make sure we always go to the right places. I'll make sure we always get private rooms so no one bothers us."

A happy blush lit Kichijouji's cheeks as he imagined what having a private room would entail. "Yes." He squeezed Masaki's hand. Maybe that first kiss would be coming sooner rather than later.

* * *

To Kichijouji's shock, Masaki took him to a rather frilly café in the European tradition. They sat down at a small, round table with wrought iron chairs and were served water and black tea by a girl in a stylized knee-length dress and apron. When she set the menus down, Kichijouji discovered it was in French as well as Japanese.

"Get whatever you want," Masaki said. "They have really good food here."

"All right. Thank you." Kichijouji stared at the menu, hardly able to focus on the selections because of the sudden reality of his situation: he was on a date. With Masaki. The utterly stunning nature of it made his heart pound.

When the server returned, Kichijouji ordered a sampler of French macaroons. He'd never had them before, and most of the flavors sounded good.

Masaki ordered a French style meal of wagyu beef steak, asparagus, potatoes, and carrots. "You should try the steak. It's very good. I think it's the best in the city."

Kichijouji caved in and ordered the smallest steak on the menu. He felt bad about having Masaki spend so much money on him on a first date, but he consoled himself with the knowledge that Masaki's family was rich. They wouldn't even blink.

"This is nice," Kichijouji murmured once the server had departed. He felt self-conscious but pleased. "I've never been on a date before, but I can say this place is amazing."

Masaki grinned. When no one was watching, he dared to reach across and squeeze Kichijouji's hand. "I really like you." That was easier to say now that Kichijouji had said the word 'date.'

Kichijouji immediately rested his free hand over Masaki's. "I really like you, too." That was an understatement. "When we get home, can we go to your room? You know . . . and be alone for awhile?"

Masaki nodded without hesitation. "Yeah!" He hastily took his hand back when the server returned with the macaroons and the dinners. He shot Kichijouji an apologetic look. "When we're home, we can do whatever we want to do."

Kichijouji felt a touch of sly boldness zip through him. He gave Masaki a wicked little grin. "Maybe I should keep some of the macaroons and take them home, then. Once we're in your room, I could feed a few to you."

Masaki flushed crimson. "M-maybe." He imagined Kichijouji's delicate fingers slowly sliding a macaroon into his mouth and shot halfway hard. He wanted to groan. He just as torturously imagined Kichijouji's fingers getting sticky and painstakingly licking them clean. That was an obvious substitute for other things, but he didn't think he'd have the courage to do that yet. After all, having sex before marriage was harshly discouraged, and though he wanted to, he was equally terrified of being caught, shamed, and punished.

Kichijouji's grin widened. "Hm. I think I will, then." He peered at the six macaroons, all of which were a different color and flavor. "What's your favorite flavor, Masaki?" he murmured, his voice nearly a purr.

"Chocolate," Masaki mumbled. He was miserable and thrilled at the same time. Miserable because he was filled with squirming embarrassment and thrilled because Kichijouji was flirting with him.

"Mm." Kichijouji delicately plucked out the chocolate one and set it aside. "Mine is raspberry." He shot Masaki a look from under his eyelashes and then plucked out the red one, setting it aside also.

Masaki grinned. _Do I get to feed you, too? Do we feed each other?_ He was ridiculously happy as he cut his steak.

Kichijouji chuckled and cut a piece off his steak. He was smiling so hard it was difficult to chew, and he felt the happy blush warming his cheeks. "This will never get old," he said once he'd swallowed. "Even when we're eighty years old, it will still be great to go out and eat with you." Having lost his parents, he was determined to keep Masaki—no matter what it took.

Masaki smiled. "Yeah. It will be. It'll never stop being special."

They ate their meal in silence after that, gazing adoringly into each other's eyes in a way Masaki felt must be obvious, but he couldn't bring himself to care. The only thing he did regret was that Kichijouji liked the macaroons so much that they ended up eating them all.

On the way home, they held hands, even though they ducked into back streets and glanced over their shoulders at times. As soon as they reached the house, they said good evening to Masaki's mom, got informed supper was in three hours, and raced up to Masaki's room as courteously as they could.

Masaki locked the door as if he were studying. He felt guilty for the deception but not for securing privacy for himself and Kichijouji. He pulled Kichijouji into a close hug.

This time, Kichijouji slipped his arms around Masaki's waist with absolute certainty that they had a secure relationship and were going to move forward with it. He pressed his cheek against Masaki's shoulder for a moment, willing his heart to slow down. The impending kiss he knew had to be coming made him so anticipatory that he could feel his pulse in several spots on his body.

Then, unable to hold back a moment more, Kichijouji lifted his face and kissed the closest target he could easily reach: Masaki's jaw.

Masaki moaned softly and kissed Kichijouji's lips. The act was so instinctive that he had a small panic attack upon realizing he'd done it. Then he pressed their lips together with everything he could muster, cupping the back of Kichijouji's neck. A shiver passed through him, and he registered that the kiss was warm. He wrapped his arms around Kichijouji and kissed Kichijouji again. "Don't ever, ever go," he whispered.

A shudder of pure need and arousal raced through Kichijouji. "I won't," he whispered. His lips tingled from the kisses, as did the back of his neck from the simple touch of Masaki's hand. "Don't _you_ ever go. You saved me. And I love you." He cupped Masaki's cheek and pulled him into another kiss, instinctively mouthing his lips. _I want you more than anyone._

Masaki moaned again and mouthed Kichijouji's lips in return. He felt like his lips were burning, but the feeling was good. He pulled Kichijouji flush to his body and kissed him with growing intensity. Kichijouji's words echoed through him. Love. It meant something exciting, terrifying, and painfully special, something more and something different from what Masaki's family felt about him.

Kichijouji moaned into the kiss as well, sinking into the sensation of Masaki's arms around him, Masaki's lips upon his, and the warmth and solidity of Masaki's chest. He could smell the faint trace of Masaki's body wash, feel the heat trapped between their bodies, and taste the faint sweetness on Masaki's lips leftover from the macaroons. Held so close to Masaki's body, he could also feel them both growing hard.

In that moment, Kichijouji realized that he desperately wanted Masaki to need him, to love him, and to make love to him. He wasn't ready for the full expression of the latter, but he would be with time. And the only person he wanted fusing with him in that way was Masaki. "Don't go," he gasped into the kiss, needing to say it one more time. "Don't ever go." He captured Masaki's lower lip and sucked on it, attempting to express the level of his need.

Masaki squeezed him, breath stolen by the strike of passion. When Masaki had his lip back, he whispered, "Never. I won't. I'll always fight to get back to you." He pulled Kichijouji to his bed and toppled them over onto it. Even though they were fully clothed, it felt deliciously intimate. He covered Kichijouji's body with his own and tucked Kichijouji's head against his neck and shoulder. "You're mine."

Kichijouji ran both arms around Masaki, gripping his shoulder blades with his hands. He felt a hot blush burning his cheeks at the intimate nature of their position, not to mention Masaki's powerful words of protection and passion. "And you're mine," he whispered. He realized that his lips had ended up right by Masaki's neck, and after a moment of struggling with himself at the forward nature of his desires, he nuzzled in and pressed a kiss to Masaki's neck.

Masaki moaned and shivered. He was fully hard, full of hormones, and unsure what to do about it. Snuggling and being frustrated seemed like the best option he could come up with. He nuzzled Kichijouji's hair.

The moan struck through Kichijouji like lightning. He pressed another kiss to Masaki's neck. It was easier to be so bold now that he'd heard that moan. He gave into his impulses and lapped over the warm spot. Then he sucked gently.

Masaki shivered, inhaled sharply, and whimpered. He hadn't expected Kichijouji to do anything like this. He squeezed Kichijouji and squirmed until his hips dropped in between Kichijouji's legs. His cheeks stung.

Kichijouji moaned softly at the feeling of Masaki's hips fitting between his thighs. The position was so suggestive he couldn't dismiss the implications. He briefly imagined a day in the future in which they would be in a similar position, naked, and making love. The power of the image made him gasp, and he showed the depth of his passion to Masaki by sucking on his neck again. The brief thought that he would give Masaki a hickey crossed his mind, but he let it float away, knowing their school uniform would hide it. He massaged Masaki's shoulder blades as he sucked and lapped his neck.

Masaki moaned and muffled the noises against the pillow, terrified that someone would be banging on his bedroom door if he didn't. _I'm making out. I'm making out with my boyfriend._ His mind spun with the enormity of it and the pleasure coursing through his body.

The sound of Masaki's pleasure was driving Kichijouji wild. When faced with the presentation of gay lovers in manga, he had been given the uniform and overwhelming message that he would be the "woman" in the relationship and that his role during sex would be one of utter passiveness—a mere receptacle of the "man's" desire, gaze, and unparalleled sexual skills. Unless, of course, he was on his knees providing his hyper-masculine lover with oral pleasure.

Reality turned out to be quite different. He was the one sucking on Masaki's neck, initiating the lovemaking and pulling moans from Masaki's lips. "I'm glad I can make you feel so good," he whispered. On impulse, he ran his tongue up the rim of Masaki's ear. "I _want_ you to feel good."

Masaki shuddered and almost came from the sudden spike of pleasure. He desperately muffled his cry. "Yes," he choked out. His ear tingled wildly. He had never imagined finding such an adventurous boyfriend or girlfriend. His parents had taught him to expect a respectful, gentle, dutiful marriage. Kichijouji's passion and his passion for Kichijouji fit nowhere into this framework. He suddenly felt the dutiful version was childish. _There is so much more. Jouji is so much more._

Kichijouji was amazed at the cry of pleasure that his lick had caused. It left him hard and leaking. There was no way he could pass up the chance to give Masaki that much pleasure. He lapped up the rim of Masaki's ear again, then dipped his tongue into the shell, shyly licking and trying to find the best spot.

Masaki arched against Kichijouji, unable to help it, and he cried out again into his pillow. The shyness of Kichijouji's caresses only made them more intense. His hips quivered. He knew he was about to come. This was his first real taste of pleasure, and it was with Kichijouji.

The way that Masaki arched against Kichijouji made him moan deeply right into Masaki's ear. The extremely suggestive nature of it made his erection throb in time with his pulse. Added to that were Masaki's helpless but muffled cries. Kichijouji clung to Masaki's shoulder blades with all his strength and captured Masaki's earlobe, sucking on it. Then he ran his tongue up Masaki's ear again before flicking it into the shell. _Oh, god, yes._ He couldn't hold back his passion, and he didn't want Masaki to hold back his.

Masaki clutched Kichijouji tightly and rocked his hips, rubbing their clothed erections together. "I'm going to – I'm going –" He came so hard it nearly hurt. As he collapsed on top of Kichijouji, aftershocks ran through his body.

For a moment, all Kichijouji could do was shiver and shudder. The way Masaki had rocked against him at the last moment had nearly made him come as well. He panted, his lips still close enough to Masaki's ear that he would be able to hear it. He ran his hands up and down Masaki's back. "Masaki," he gasped. He understood that they'd made a mess, and Masaki would have to clean it up as much as possible to hide the evidence. He also didn't care. He was so thrilled to have pleasured Masaki that he was ecstatic. "I love you," he whispered. "And I'll do that for you again. And again."

"What about you?" Masaki asked. "Don't you want to finish?" He felt weird and sloshy inside, but in a good way.

Kichijouji felt his blush all the way into his ears and down his neck. "Ah—yes." Several long moments passed before he could manage to speak again. "Would you try kissing my neck? Or maybe my ear?"

Masaki nodded and carefully shifted himself down. He buried his face against Kichijouji's neck. It was soft, warm, and a little damp with sweat, but it was the nice, fragrant kind of sweat. He moaned against Kichijouji's skin and lapped, feeling wanton and deceptive for doing these things behind his parents' backs. He wished it were a worse feeling, but he just couldn't feel too guilty. Then he was absorbed in kissing and sucking Kichijouji's neck, lost in the feeling of lavishing love on his boyfriend.

Kichijouji felt himself sink bonelessly into the mattress. Shockwaves of pleasure radiated throughout his body, and he moaned repeatedly, the sound deep and aching. He closed his eyes, focusing entirely on the intimate feeling of being held by his boyfriend and having his neck kissed. His fingers twitched lightly against Masaki's back as the pleasure pulsed through him. For that moment in time, Kichijouji felt as though the universe clicked into place for him. He was loved and protected, and he was being made love to. "Yes," he moaned. He never wanted to be anywhere else but in this perfect moment. "Masaki . . ."

A shiver ran down Masaki's back. "Yes," he echoed. He sucked, licked, and nuzzled with slow, insistent fervor, panting. In this instant, he forgot where they were, forgot there were other people in the house, forgot everything except that he loved Kichijouji and would do anything Kichijouji asked.

The sheer intensity of Masaki's dedication affected Kichijouji as much as the soft lips and tongue teasing his neck. He felt his lower back bowing upward off the mattress as his core muscles tightened with the ecstasy. "Masaki!" He tilted his head back and to the side, giving Masaki more room. And then, like Masaki just moments before, he ended up rocking his hips, unable to keep still.

Masaki moaned and ran his hands through Kichijouji's hair. He felt such love that his chest was tight. _If I can take care of you this way for a lifetime, it will all be worth it._

The caress through his hair and Masaki's moan did Kichijouji in. For a suspended moment, all he could feel was the radiating pleasure of Masaki's soft lips on his neck and the added burn of the way he was rubbing up against Masaki's body. And then he cried out over Masaki's shoulder, his hips pumping in several sharp jerks as he came.

He collapsed under Masaki, feeling winded and high, and hugged Masaki with all his strength. "Oh, god yes. Again. I want to be in your arms like this again and again."

Masaki took a deep breath and made a noise of agreement. He ran his hands through Kichijouji's hair slowly, cherishing the feeling. He raised his head so that he could look into Kichijouji's eyes. He suspected he looked as dazed as Kichijouji did.

Kichijouji felt the smile blooming across his lips. Masaki's look of adoration and love made his heart buzz, and the feeling of Masaki's fingers running through his hair was divine. He ran his hands over the expanse of Masaki's back and then leaned in so he could kiss Masaki's forehead. A wave of fuzzy but warm exhaustion hit him. "I want to sleep on your chest now," he said. "Let's clean up and then return to your bed, yeah?"

Masaki nodded quickly.

They climbed off the bed and parted, changing clothes and tidying up. Kichijouji returned to Masaki's room wearing casual clothing—a soft cotton t-shirt and pants. Masaki was already back on his bed, waiting for him.

Kichijouji plopped right onto the bed and snuggled up, laying his head on Masaki's shoulder. "This is perfect." He rested his hand in the middle of Masaki's chest.

Masaki sighed happily. He wrapped his arms around Kichijouji and closed his eyes. "This _is_ perfect. You're perfect."

Kichijouji leaned up and pressed a kiss to Masaki's jaw. "Well, I think you're perfect. So we're both ridiculously happy." He grinned and settled in again. Masaki was warm, and his arms were strong. The love and reassurance contained in that embrace was enough to lull him into a nap.

It was the first time in a month that Kichijouji didn't have even one small nightmare.


	5. Plots and Plans

**Chapter 5**

A week passed in bliss. Kichijouji and Masaki went home every day, holed up in one or the other's room for an hour, kissed, and cuddled. Masaki's mother and sisters seemed none the wiser, and Masaki's father worked such long hours that he always came home late in the evening, anyway.

Meanwhile, Kosuke was pleasant and friendly to Kichijouji, but Kosuke and Masaki traded determined looks every time they passed in the hallway.

When Kichijouji showed up for art club that following week, he was more in the mood to paint Masaki than he was to work on still life, but he dutifully sat down and resumed his painting.

"You seem distracted," Kosuke said. "Have you heard about the dance, then?" His still life was coming along beautifully, and it seemed his aesthetic sense didn't stop at bento boxes.

"Dance?" Kichijouji echoed. He lowered his paint brush and thought back to earlier in the day, when a group of his female classmates had clustered together and whispered. One girl had started crying and had run from the room. Another had simply said, 'Well, she knew he'd ask me, instead.'

Kichijouji realized they must have been talking about this dance. "Why? When is it?"

"Next Saturday." Kosuke glanced at Kichijouji and paused in his painting. "I take it that Ichijou hasn't shared this information with you. I can't say I'm surprised. He would never have the nerve to ask you to the dance. The Ten Master Clans are too strict about their eldest sons being heterosexual by nature, and Ichijou would never embarrass his father. But it seems cold, considering it means you'd be watching Ichijou dance with a pretty girl if you did go."

"Don't say 'have the nerve' and 'cold,'" Kichijouji hissed, offended. "You did just say that Masaki is being socially pressured and pressured by his family to be heterosexual and that he's too good of a son to embarrass his father. If you were in Masaki's place, would you really be able to handle it any differently?" He looked away and added another layer of red paint to the apple in the fruit bowl he was working on. "And I don't know what Masaki will do. As you just pointed out, I didn't know about the dance, and we haven't talked about it." In his heart, though, he knew Masaki wouldn't be able to take him to the dance. Mr. Ichijou did love Masaki, and of that there was no doubt. However, that didn't change the fact that Masaki was a political chess piece in a ten-clan-wide battle for advantageous marriages and power balances.

"I apologize for angering you, but my policy is that friends always speak the truth to each other," Kosuke said. "The truth is that Ichijou is a traditionalist. That's who he was raised to be, and that's why his father prizes him. He's the Good Son. I'm trying to steer you away from Ichijou before he breaks your heart." He glanced at Kichijouji with a look of questioning concern. "Or is it already too late?"

Kichijouji fell silent, feeling crushed. He knew Masaki loved him, and he knew that both he and Masaki wanted to spend their lives together. But he also knew that above all, Mr. Ichijou would expect Masaki to marry one of the daughters among the Ten Master Clans and produce heirs who were powerful magicians. The Ichijou family was a powerful family, and they would want to stay a powerful family.

With that weight bearing down on Masaki, what hope did Kichijouji have?

Kichijouji crammed his paint brush into the waiting jar of water and then stared at it. "I can be his lover," he murmured so quietly that none of the other students could hear it over their chatter. "A lot of the men among the top clans take lovers on the side after they're married. Some even have children with their mistresses. It's not odd, you know. The only thing different here is that I'm male. But married men with male lovers still isn't weird—not historically and not now. Just look at the history of the samurai."

"And you'd be satisfied with that?" Kosuke set down his brush and raised an eyebrow, staring at Kichijouji. "I wouldn't be. You shouldn't be. You shouldn't have to settle for living in the shadows. No one will ever acknowledge you as long as you tie yourself to Ichijou. He'll ask you to stay silent, take what he gives you, and be happy with that. But can you be happy? You'll masquerade as his best friend while he marries a woman and has children with her, and you'll be Uncle Shinkuro to the family you should have had, because if Ichijou loved you more than he loves the safety he has right now, he would come out and give his duties over to his sister. He's not an only sibling. He doesn't have to stay in the closet. He just wants to."

Kichijouji lifted his chin and faced Kosuke. "You're asking a lot, you know? Masaki is only thirteen, and every child, no matter how old, wants their parents' approval. If Masaki tries to come out to his parents right now, they'll probably just tell him he's going through a phase and will grow out of it. And even worse, if he says he's in love with me, they'll more than likely send me away. I'll end up at a boarding school on the far side of the country. How can Masaki protect me or make me happy if I'm, say, at a boarding school in Tokyo?"

Kosuke sighed, and his shoulders slumped. "I can't tell you what to do. All I can do is offer you my heart. I love you, Kichijouji. I'd happily take you to the dance as my boyfriend. My parents would adopt you into our fold. We could be married someday if you love me back. I know the Ichijou family found you and rescued you. I'll always be grateful to them. But that doesn't mean that's where you belong. My family is not as wealthy as the Ichijou, but we are well off, and unlike the Ichijou clan, my family would acknowledge you as my husband."

Kichijouji looked away again, staring at his canvas. He could see it all: dancing at various school dances with Kosuke, being taken home for dinner with Kosuke, being "interviewed" as a potential son-in-law by Kosuke's parents, and sitting on a couch holding hands in plain view of Kosuke's parents. The picture was all too clear, even though he had no idea what the parents or house looked like. But he could picture that future: open, obvious, happy, bright.

Then he thought of the Ichijou and their mansion. As nice as Mr. and Mrs. Ichijou were, he couldn't imagine anything except a heterosexual wedding in the garden, with Masaki's bride dressed in the Western-style, white wedding gown—an item still popular in Japan. He imagined babies. And he saw himself exactly as Kosuke described: Uncle Shinkuro. His best hope of really being a member of the Ichijou family would be to propose to one of Masaki's sisters once they came of age.

In front of Kichijouji, the sight of his canvas blurred. Tears burned in his eyes. He stood without a word and swept from the room, heading to the nearest bathroom. What had he been thinking? He had thrown himself into Masaki's arms and shared an intimate moment with him, but what could he really hope for? A lifelong secret lover was his only reasonable option.

And, now that both of his parents had been abruptly killed on the same exact day, Kichijouji knew better than to believe in happy endings.

Kichijouji dashed into the bathroom, which was thankfully empty, and shut himself into a stall so he could sob into his hands.

* * *

As part of the Culture Club, it was Masaki's job to help plan the dance, which commemorated one of Japan's World War III magic-based military victories. Akio and Emi were in the club as well.

Akio came back from the bathroom pale-faced, and he pulled Masaki aside.

"What is it? You get a stomach flu?" Masaki asked.

Akio shook his head and whispered, "Kichijouji is in the bathroom crying. He didn't see me. I didn't know what to say. You should talk to him."

"Yeah." Masaki rubbed the back of his head. "You take over for me, okay? I was thinking that we should get the Music Club to pick and contact our DJ for the dance. Suggest that for me, will you?"

"Sure," Akio said.

Masaki left the room and then ran down the hallway to the bathroom. Only one stall was shut, and muffled crying came from it. Anyone who had entered the bathroom had probably been scared away. No one wanted to confront a sobbing person they couldn't see. It was too much like one of those old ghost stories about school bathrooms. "Jouji! Jouji, it's me."

Kichijouji was in far too much pain to do any pretending. He blew his nose on toilet paper, then opened the stall door and stepped out. He stared up at Masaki, unable to speak because more tears were already welling up.

Masaki caught Kichijouji up in his arms and came back into the stall, even though that crowded them. He shut the door and hugged Kichijouji, momentarily lifting Kichijouji off his feet. He pressed kisses to Kichijouji's ear and temple. "I know. I know; the pain comes in waves. I talked to my dad about it. You don't have to pretend like you're not still grieving your parents. You've been really brave just to go to school with me."

At the hug and the two kisses, Kichijouji burst into open sobs, not even trying to quiet himself anymore. He threw his arms around Masaki and clung with all his might. "But it's—but it's not about that!" He paused, wondering for a moment if that were actually true or not. His grief over his parents followed him around like a thundercloud, just waiting to burst. "Rokugo said—he said that no matter how much you love me, you'll never be able to have an open relationship with me, and you'll be forced to marry a woman! He said I deserved more than to spend my life on the sidelines as a male mistress." He buried his face against Masaki's uniform.

"That fucking prick!" Masaki held Kichijouji closely and stroked Kichijouji's hair. "Who does he think he is? We're only thirteen! We have years to think of a solution. How could he ask us to solve that kind of problem right away? All I know is that I love you and I'm not giving you up, and no matter what I'll figure out how to take care of you and honor you. He's got no right to say we won't be happy."

For some reason, hearing Masaki call Kosuke a "fucking prick" instead of just a "prick" made Kichijouji snort with laughter. It broke up his tears. Then Masaki's logic slowly sank in. It was true: they were only thirteen. They had at least five years to figure it out, and depending on how much pressure Mr. Ichijou put on his son to marry young, they might have longer. He peered up at Masaki, blinking his remaining tears away so he could see clearly. "Promise? I don't want to be some—some second-class person in your life. I don't want to be the backup or the sidebar. I don't want to be the person that you come to only when other people aren't good enough or only when you're having a problem. I want to be front and center. I don't have to be more special than everyone else, but I don't want to be _less_ special. I at least want to be tied for first place. I want to _matter._ "

Masaki pressed a kiss to Kichijouji's lips. He stroked Kichijouji's cheek and looked into his boyfriend's eyes. "I grew up in this world Rokugo claims to know so well. He thinks he knows, but he's really still one degree removed. He doesn't fully understand what it's like to grow up in a web of politics, and he thinks like other people think – that secrets are only bad. Secrets can be wonderful, too. But even if you can't see it that way, there are still solutions. Rokugo thinks he's a know-it-all, but he doesn't know that marriages don't have to be important. We could both marry women who don't love us, produce one child a piece, and never go home, signing up for continuous military service instead. That would put us together instead of apart—because I would use my clan's power to ensure it—and the women who would be apart from us would probably be relieved, anyway. Some Master Clan people do that. I don't know if any of them are gay, but they give homes to their wives and then stay away because they each have their own sphere."

"Oh." Kichijouji grew quiet, his gaze falling to Masaki's chest. It was all so different than the middle class life he'd lived. His parents had worked in the same research institute, lived in the same house, slept in the same bed. They'd had their one requisite child, and they'd eaten supper with him every night and taken him to amusement parks and beaches during the summer. They'd teased each other and hugged and kissed each other, even with Kichijouji watching. It had been domestic, connected, and inclusive.

The world Masaki lived in and described was vastly different, with a potential for core family members to occupy separate houses and hardly ever see each other. Duty was upheld, but the real connections might be elsewhere. It seemed so foreign that Kichijouji wondered how Masaki and he were really part of the same country.

Kichijouji realized in that moment that if he hadn't been born a magician—and as the son of magical researchers—the gap between Masaki and himself would have been so huge it could have never been closed. But Kichijouji had been born a magician, and he had straight A's in all his magic classes.

"So your parents are unusual in that they love each other," Kichijouji said, putting the full picture together. He lifted his face. "And you will be unusual in that you love _me_."

Masaki smiled. "Yes." He kissed Kichijouji again, slowly and deeply. When their kiss ended, he said with a laugh, "Even if we were to live at home most of the time, there's such a thing as a family secret. Apparently Rokugo doesn't have any of those. Just because the rest of the world wouldn't know, it doesn't mean the family wouldn't know. One of the conditions of the marriage could be that my wife understood it's merely political, and we sleep in a separate bedroom or a separate house. She'd be well taken care of and have her own lover, and we'd have each other. People say children can't be happy under those circumstances, but that's silly. As long as everyone agrees they love the child, and the arrangements are consistent, there's no harm done. That's how my dad grew up."

Kichijouji felt so relieved he barely managed to catalogue the information. "All right." He was preoccupied with the tingling kiss he'd just received. It had been nearly as reassuring as all the explanations. "Just kiss me again." He wanted to be pressed close to Masaki's chest and loved on until he felt all the way better.

Masaki blushed and did what was asked of him. He held Kichijouji to his chest tightly and kissed Kichijouji again and again, smoothly melding their lips together and humming in his chest at how good it felt. _I'll protect you. I'll make you happy. Happiness looks like all sorts of things._

Kichijouji relaxed in Masaki's arms, feeling warm and safe again. With his parents dead, he found he prized the feelings of warmth and safety above all others—equal only to love. He moaned softly into the kisses and fit his body against Masaki's. He let Masaki kiss him until his head buzzed with arousal and his lips tingled. He let Masaki kiss him until he nearly forgot that they were standing in a bathroom.

Only when he was breathless and had broken a sweat did he finally pull back enough to catch Masaki's gaze. "So, can you find a way to take me to the dance?"

Masaki grimaced sheepishly. "I was going to ask you about that. Are you willing to talk to Emi-chan?"

It took a moment for Kichijouji to figure out what Masaki meant. "You mean tell her we're together?" He considered her squealing reaction to the bento Kosuke had made for him. "Well, yes. But only if you're sure she can keep a secret."

"She'll keep this one, or she'll forfeit her life," Masaki said. "We all have a code: If it's serious, we never tell."

Kichijouji nodded. "Then I'll talk to her."

* * *

Masaki arranged for him and Kichijouji to go to Emi's house after the Culture Club got out. Emi introduced them to her parents, who were polite and quiet. Emi then took them up to her room.

"My parents know Masaki-kun would never do anything with me," she said cheerfully as she shut the door. "So I can get away with this." She turned to them. "You said it was serious?"

Masaki nodded. "Code Red." That was their secret phrase for something that had to be absolutely locked down, no matter what. "Jouji and I are going out."

Emi gasped. Then her hands flew to her cheeks, and she let out a long, piercing squee.

Kichijouji blushed hotly. _This is embarrassing, but I'm grateful that she likes yaoi so much. That makes this easier._ "And since no one can know about this for obvious reasons, we need your help."

Emi tackled each of them in turn with a hug around the shoulders. "I'll do anything!"

Masaki blushed and pushed forward with his plan. "Rokugo thinks he can take Jouji to the dance because I'm too cowardly to go with him. I want to prove Rokugo wrong and give Jouji the night he deserves. The only way I think we can do that is…" He slanted a look at Kichijouji. "If we both take turns being girls. So we need you to use your cosplay skills."

Having not actually known what Masaki had in mind, Kichijouji thought he might faint. "Go as a girl?" The second part of the words hit him. "Both of us? Taking turns?" He squirmed on the inside and felt an even hotter blush creep down his neck. Kichijouji had plenty of self-awareness. He knew that when standing next to Masaki, he looked like he would be the girl of the pair. He was short and small and round-faced. He also blushed easily. But even as effeminate as he knew he looked, he didn't feel feminine. He'd always felt like a boy.

He peered at Emi and braced himself. He was dead certain she was going to go wild dressing him up like a girl.

Emi had a frightening gleam in her eyes, like a cat staring at a feather toy.

"We have to look like regular middle school students," Masaki reminded her.

Emi laughed. Then she laughed again. "Oh, I can do that."

Masaki braced himself.

Emi ran to her wardrobe and threw it open. It was filled with nothing but costumes. Then she tugged a large box out from under her bed, tossed it onto her bed, and opened it. It was filled to the brim with neatly arranged trays of makeup and styling tools. She grinned at them. "What kind of girls do you want to be? Sexy? Slutty? Modest? Nerdy? Moe?"

Kichijouji knew without a doubt that left to her own devices, Emi would make him moe. "Modest," he said. He figured it was useless, though. He was going to end up looking like a poster child for moe.

"Oooh. Okay!" Emi ran to her wardrobe and pulled out a long sleeved white dress with a high collar. The collar and cuffs were lace, the skirt was brocaded with lace, and there were three petticoats. "Try this on! I wore it last year. I think we're the same size." She had no breasts to speak of. "Do you want a long wig or a short wig?"

Kichijouji literally took a step backward. "Too much lace!" He felt the horror bloom through his chest. "I don't want to—I don't want to be a girly girl. Just a—" He failed to find a word for it. He mentally rerouted. "Do you have a _qi pao_?"

"Sure do." Emi put the white lace dress back and pulled out a green and gold _qi pao_. "I wore this two years ago to celebrate the rerelease of the Street Fighter franchise. It's Chun Li's new colors."

Kichijouji calmed down considerably at the sight of this dress. It was streamlined and classic. "All right. I'll try that one on." He accepted the dress from her, escaped into the bathroom, and then returned once he'd fought his way into the dress. Until that moment, he hadn't understood how evil zippers could actually be. The zipper on the _qi pao_ went from his tailbone up to the nape of his neck. He felt like he'd become a temporary contortionist just to get it zipped.

Emi pulled him in front of the full length mirror in her bedroom. "What do you think?"

Masaki blushed. It was strange seeing Kichijouji in a dress. He had a round enough face that he made a believable girl, and he couldn't help imagining Chun Li's hair buns on either side of Kichijouji's head. "I think we need a wig to keep people from thinking he's a Chun Li cosplay."

Kichijouji turned from side to side, studying his profile, and even turned around and then glanced over his shoulder. He experienced a bizarre moment in which he simultaneously felt sexy and also wanted to rip off the dress because he really did look like a girl with a stick figure. "Do you have a shoulder-length black wig? Or maybe a long one—like one that would fall all the way down my back?"

"A long straight one." Emi ran to a cabinet and threw it open. There were rows of wigs on mannequin heads. She pulled off one that had been partially folded into a plastic bag because of its length. "These are real hair. I've been getting them as presents and saving up my allowances for them." She crossed the room and helped settle it on Kichijouji's head. "This is my newest one. I just got it over summer break."

Blunt bangs now covered Kichijouji's forehead, and straight black hair fell down to the small of his back.

"That's better," Masaki said.

Kichijouji stared at the mirror. He had only hit puberty one year earlier, and he still looked like the youngest boy in his grade. With the dress and the wig, he absolutely looked like a girl.

Without a single word, Kichijouji turned to face Masaki head-on so Masaki could get the full effect. "Is it . . . good?"

Masaki nodded. He felt it was eerie. "You look like your own sister. You'll need contacts to cover up your eyes. It's easiest to make your eyes brown. That's one of the least thick and oppressive contacts because it's not a bright color."

"Sounds fine."

Emi immediately opened a drawer filled with contact cases. She fished out a pair and handed them over. "I haven't worn these yet. Obviously, you get to keep them, since once you wear them you can't give them back. Be sure to buy contact lens solution, and wash your hands thoroughly before putting them in."

Kichijouji accepted the case and bowed. "Thank you."

Emi beamed. "It's nothing! I love dressing people up." She whirled on Masaki. "Now you, Masaki-kun." She grabbed his hand and pulled him over to the wardrobe. "I don't have as much in your size. I cosplayed an evil queen this year. If I take the shoulder armor off, it pretty much looks like a normal dress. Do you want to try that one on? The only other thing I have is a Lolita gothic outfit I made taller so I could wear those insane platform shoes."

Masaki grimaced. "Evil queen or Lolita?"

Kichijouji once again thought he could faint. "Evil queen or Lolita?" he echoed as well. He shook his head vigorously. "Evil queen. Definitely. I already look like someone who could be cast as the shouta character in a movie! The last thing I need is to show up with a Lolita who is five inches taller than I am!"

Masaki flushed.

Emi cackled and somehow managed to persuade Masaki into the slinky floor-length evening gown made of purple silk.

Masaki refused to come out of the bathroom. "I look silly."

"You do not," Emi said, peeking into the bathroom. "If you don't wear the opera gloves, then it doesn't even look like a cosplay."

"It has built in boobs!"

"Of course it does. Evil queens aren't flat-chested. I _had_ to build in boobs."

Masaki slunk out of the bathroom and stood before Kichijouji, pouting. There was a collar, but cut-out shoulders and no sleeves. The false breasts and the tailoring around the top of the skirt created the illusion of a mature female figure. "I look like a high school student."

"You're just an early developer," Emi said.

Kichijouji was experiencing a bizarre moment of visual confusion. "Slap a wig on him. Quick."

Emi pulled Masaki over to her wig cabinet and expertly arranged a blonde wig with the hair twisted into a fancy knot at the nape of the neck. "This is my schoolteacher wig, but I think it works." She turned Masaki around to face Kichijouji. "What do you think now?"

Kichijouji's shoulders sagged with relief. "Much better." In only a year or two, Masaki wouldn't be able to pull it off. But for now, Masaki made a passable girl. It was true, though, that Masaki looked like a first year student in high school, not a junior high student. Kichijouji snickered. "Everyone will be wondering how I managed to nab an 'older woman.'"

Emi laughed.

"Are you sure no one will recognize me?" Masaki asked nervously.

"Not after I put on the contour makeup," Emi said. "I'll show you and Kichijouji right now." She sat Masaki down on her bed and worked for several minutes with her makeup kit. Somehow, when she was done, Masaki had a rounder face and more pronounced, feminine cheekbones. "There." She looked to Kichijouji. "What do you think?"

"I think you'll have to help us the night of the dance," Kichijouji said. "There's no way we can recreate something you've clearly spent years perfecting." He offered Masaki a smile. "You really do look like a girl now." He paused a beat. "I like you much better as a boy, though."

Masaki laughed. "Me, too."

"I'll help you," Emi promised. "We'll meet in secret in the Culture Club room."

Kichijouji smiled. "Thank you. I think this'll be a success."

Discomfort about the setup aside, Kichijouji was looking forward to dancing in Masaki's arms.


	6. The Dance

**Chapter 6**

On the night of the dance, Emi met Masaki and Kichijouji in the culture club room an hour in advance. Masaki and Kichijouji had come through the side door so no one would see them. Emi then went to work transforming Kichijouji into a girl. Masaki and he had agreed that everyone would expect Masaki there, and on time, too, so Kichijouji dressed up first.

Kichijouji slipped on the green and gold _qi pao_ , which fit his body nicely. The slits up the sides of his legs were no problem. He had very little body hair, and what little he had was thin, fine, and nearly invisible. Emi brought him a pair of simple black slippers—the generic Chinese version that both men and women could wear. Then she coached him through getting the contacts in. Finally, she secured the long-haired wig and added makeup. As an extra, added touch, she even gave him a pair of clip-on earrings—a single faux pearl for each ear.

Once preparations were complete, Kichijouji turned around in a slow circle for Masaki. He felt wildly self-conscious and also anticipatory.

Masaki had watched the transformation, and he still felt an unreasoning reaction to the final look. All of his senses told him that this was a girl standing in front of him: a girl with Kichijouji's stature and round face but little else in common. "Everyone is going to be jealous of me."

"With this wig, you look like the traditional kind of girl everyone would expect Masaki-kun to bring," Emi said. "You looked good in my room, but this is even better. I've outdone myself."

That comment drew out a blush right on cue. Kichijouji clasped his hands in front of his body, instead of behind his back, and offered Masaki a more feminine-flavored bow. Then he stepped right into character. "In that case, thank you for bringing me to your school's dance."

Masaki blushed miserably. "Y-You're welcome." He offered his arm.

Emi clapped her hands together and giggled. "You're so cute!"

"Thank you for your help," Kichijouji told Emi. He accepted Masaki's arm, wrapping both his arms around Masaki's and leaning against him lightly the way a girl would. Then he let Masaki lead him out the side door, around the school, and in through the front door. They arrived right on time.

Everyone in the gymnasium-turned-ballroom looked at them and stared when they entered. Almost instantly, they turned to each other and started whispering.

Emi entered right behind them with Akio, who had waited for Emi by the front door no questions asked.

Hideo and his date for the evening, a diminutive girl even shorter than Kichijouji and Emi, came up to Masaki and Kichijouji first. "Dude, who's this? I didn't know you'd invited anyone to the dance."

"This is Koko-chan!" Emi grinned. She pulled alongside Masaki with Akio. "She's from the east coast. Her family is friends with Masaki-kun's – although, who isn't?"

Masaki nearly snorted. _Koko-chan?_ "Meet Hideo-kun."

Kichijouji released Masaki's arm and clasped his hands in front again. Then he bowed, letting the curtain of black hair fall forward from his shoulders and mask his face. "Pleased to meet you," he murmured, softening his voice as much as he could and hoping that would be enough. He also used the most polite rendition of the phrase that Japanese had to offer.

Hideo bowed in return, looking flustered. His date for the evening frowned at him. "Pleased to meet you. I hope you have a good time." His date pinched his arm. He straightened and rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah, Ina-chan wants to dance. I'll talk to you later."

His date dragged him off looking moderately mollified.

Kichijouji wrapped his arms around Masaki's arm again. Instead of feeling embarrassed, he felt oddly freed from the constraints of being a boy. "Shall we dance, Masaki-chan?" he asked, tossing on the cutesy honorific as only a girl could. If he'd done it as a boy, it would have been an insult.

Masaki almost fell over. "Uh – Uh-huh." He felt like he would trip over his feet if he couldn't clear his head. He took a deep breath and let Kichijouji lead them out to where they could dance. He almost died at the mingled thrill and fear of being caught when he placed his hand on Kichijouji's waist.

Kichijouji took Masaki's hand and rested his free hand on Masaki's shoulder. For a moment, he had to calibrate himself. It would be like dancing backward. But he realized all he really needed to do was let Masaki lead. "All right," he murmured, and then Masaki began their dance.

After a few awkward moments, Kichijouji adjusted and just smiled up at Masaki's sweet face. "This is perfect."

Masaki felt the crimson tide rush up his face all the way to his hairline. He stared into Kichijouji's eyes, struck silent by Kichijouji's expression. As if by itself, his body glided along as if he were the smooth, suave character he wished he were.

Kichijouji let out a small sigh of happiness. He closed the gap between them, nearly bringing them chest-to-chest and forcing Masaki to wrap his arm around his waist. A pleasant blush tingled in Kichijouji's cheeks at the feeling of Masaki's warm, strong arm around him. "When we get home tonight," he whispered, "I want to be back in your bed again, underneath you."

"A-Ah," Masaki said, barely managing a noise of agreement. He breathed in through his nose and out his mouth, trying to calm the rampaging of his body. His heart pounded, and he was getting hard. Kichijouji was making his senses go crazy. He could smell the tiny touch of perfume on Kichijouji's clothes. Kichijouji's tiny waist nestled in his arm made him super conscious of their bodies.

Kichijouji decided he was being quite wicked, but he couldn't help himself. Seeing Masaki aroused and flustered was too much of a turn-on. "Your lips on my neck felt wonderful," he murmured. "And I felt incredibly safe and protected lying under you."

Masaki almost fainted. He was glad that his clothes for tonight were so tailored, or else it would have shown his hard-on. His palms were suddenly sweaty. "I need some punch," he blurted. His voice cracked. "Are you thirsty?" Kichijouji made him wish they were already home.

Kichijouji released Masaki and laughed. He even raised his fingers and covered his mouth the way a girl would. "Sure, sweetheart." _I'm just terrible._ He stepped up by Masaki, wrapping both his arms around Masaki's arm and leaning against him as they headed toward the refreshment table.

As they arrived, about a dozen girls already milling around eating sweets and drinking punch turned and glared at them.

"Who is she?" a particularly strident girl asked. She was in Masaki and Kichijouji's class. "Ichijou, I thought for sure you would ask one of us to the dance. But you asked someone who doesn't even go to our school? Isn't that against the rules?"

"No," Masaki said, taken aback. "We can bring whoever we want. It's an open dance."

Kichijouji was not to be upstaged. He pouted up at Masaki. "I know you're handsome, but I didn't realize you were so popular, Masaki-chan."

Masaki groaned with misery. "I-It's nothing, really."

"You must be popular to snag Ichijou," the girl retorted. She strode up and put her hands on her hips. "Who're you? What's your school?"

Masaki stepped halfway between them, angling his body to place Kichijouji behind him. "Leave her alone. You're just trying to pick on her. She doesn't have to answer your questions. Besides, she's leaving halfway through anyway. Her ride home is so long I'm going to have to leave the dance to escort her to the train station."

The girl's eyebrows rose, and she scowled. "You brought her here for half a dance? You must really be in love."

Masaki could feel heat suffusing his ears. "I-I can't say."

Kosuke pushed through the growing crowd and stared Masaki down. "I think you can. Explain where Kichijouji is as well."

Now Masaki wished he had just stayed home.

Kichijouji reached up and placed his hands on Masaki's shoulder blades. It looked like something a girl would do, and it also made it look like he was hiding behind Masaki because he was a specifically a bashful girl. "Do you mean Masaki-chan's best friend? Masaki-chan said he'd been delayed picking up his date."

"Who? Someone from his old school?" Kosuke demanded.

"Everyone, just leave her alone," Masaki snapped. "I'm serious."

Emi broke through the crowd. "Boy, you guys are being so noisy! None of us can enjoy ourselves while you're over here yelling."

The girls, startled, slunk away.

Masaki was relieved that Emi had so much clout with their female classmates. He breathed a sigh and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

Kosuke frowned. "You're still a heartless bastard. You know how Kichijouji feels about you. We'll settle this tomorrow." He stalked off.

Kichijouji cringed and turned to Emi. "Thank you for the save."

Emi smirked and swigged her cup of punch. "It's no problem. I'll do anything for love." She crushed her cup, dropped it in the trash can, and sauntered off to rejoin Akio.

As soon as Masaki had a cup of punch, Kichijouji pulled him back out onto the dance floor. "Don't worry about Rokugo. Not that you couldn't handle him anyway, but we'll drop the bomb on him tomorrow that I was me." He reached up and caressed Masaki's cheek.

"We will?" Masaki was startled. "I thought you'd want to – well, never mind. I'll do whatever you want me to." He wrapped his arm around Kichijouji's waist and swayed back into the rhythm of the song playing. They danced for another few songs, checked the time, and realized Masaki had to go change into his costume now to give Kichijouji an equal amount of face time.

As they headed out of the room, Kichijouji caught the jealous girls glaring their way. He lifted his hand and wiggled his fingers at them in a cutesy goodbye. Their intensified glares made him wonder why he wasn't incinerated on the spot.

Once again, Emi met them in the culture club room. Kichijouji immediately changed clothes and then reported to the nearest bathroom so he could wash the makeup off his face and remove the contacts.

When he returned, Masaki had been encased in the purple dress and dolled up with the blonde updo wig. The contour makeup was on, changing the shape of Masaki's face, and Emi was applying pastel pink lipstick to Masaki's lips. As Kichijouji watched, Emi followed that up with mascara. Masaki complained the entire way through that process and pouted when it was over.

"It's worth it," Emi insisted. She turned to Kichijouji. "You tell him."

"You look like a beautiful high school girl." Joij tilted his head. "It's believable, and it's lovely. Although I still prefer you as a boy." He grinned.

Masaki smiled, unable to help it. He held out his hand. "Will you escort me to the dance, Kichijouji-kun?"

Kichijouji hadn't expected the line to work on him, but it did. He blushed, hard, and took Masaki's hand. "I certainly will." He squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, and headed out with Masaki. He knew the other boys would likely make fun of him for bringing a "girl" who was five inches taller than he was, but he didn't care.

Once again, they swung around the outside of the building and entered through the front doors.

And once again, they got immediate stares and whispers.

Across the room, Emi re-entered as if she'd been in the bathroom. She went up to them with Akio. "Kichijouji, you're here! You just missed Masaki-kun." She beamed at Masaki. "Good evening! I'm Emi. This is Akio-kun."

Masaki bowed carefully. He felt strange with the false breasts sewn into the costume. "Nice to meet you." He'd practiced his voice a little while Kichijouji was in the bathroom. Pitched upwards and softer, he could just cheat his way back to pre-puberty.

"This is Rin-chan," Kichijouji said. He picked the name randomly. He took Masaki's hand again and squeezed it. "I'm sorry to hear I just missed Masaki. But since Rin-chan went to my old school, she had to come a long way to get here."

Masaki nodded and smiled at Kichijouji. "It's worth it. I've missed you, Shinkuro-kun." He squeezed Kichijouji's hand in return.

Hideo bounced up to them with his date, who was looking much happier than last time. "Hey, Kichijouji, you made it."

"This is Rin-chan, Kichijouji's old classmate," Emi said.

"Cool," Hideo said. "Too bad you missed Masaki-kun. He brought a date from another school, too. I bet his parents are already making him do marriage interviews. Poor bastard. Anyway, see you later!" He left with his date to go back to dancing.

"He's clearly having a good time." Kichijouji bowed to Emi and Akio. "Excuse us. I better make up for lost time." He smiled up at Masaki. "Want to dance?"

Masaki nodded. "Yes, please." He smiled in return. Kichijouji escorted him onto the dance floor like a gentleman, and for an instant, he did feel like a girl. _Now to test my ability to follow Jouji's lead._

Kichijouji rested his hand on Masaki's slender waist, which had actually been accentuated by the skirt of the dress. He smiled to himself. _You really are just right for me._ Then he took Masaki's free hand. He paused, waiting to catch up to the beat of the music, then began their dance. He had to peer up to smile at Masaki, but he realized that didn't actually bother him.

Masaki felt like he was doing something wrong for the first few steps, but then his body relaxed. His grace returned, and he smiled at Kichijouji with appreciation and relief. _We're going to be okay._ It was as though the dance were proof. He squeezed Kichijouji's hand. "I love you," he whispered. For some reason, pretending to be a girl, he could say it easily.

Kichijouji felt the smile blooming on his face. "I love you, too." He pulled Masaki closer, slipping his hand into the small of Masaki's back. Despite the simplicity of the movement, he felt himself stir. Having his arm around Masaki was intoxicating.

Masaki gasped faintly and felt a warm current in his body. Their closeness had the same effect as before. He was breathing part of Kichijouji's air, and everything was Kichijouji-scented. He didn't care about looking like a girl at the moment. He wanted to kiss Kichijouji and just not stop.

* * *

After the dance, Kichijouji and Masaki met Emi in the culture club room and removed all traces of their exploits. Then they went home.

They were only waylaid for a few minutes upon arriving at the Ichijou mansion—just long enough to assure Mrs. Ichijou that they had a good time and to accept a snack to carry up to Masaki's room.

When they arrived in the bedroom, Kichijouji set the tray on the table while Masaki locked the door.

As soon as their privacy was secured, Kichijouji turned to Masaki with a smile.

Masaki wrapped Kichijouji in a tight hug, pressing his lips against Kichijouji's. "I'm not hungry," he whispered when he drew back to breathe. He hugged Kichijouji tighter and kissed his boyfriend again. A soft moan vibrated through his chest, and he stirred again.

Kichijouji moaned and slipped his arms around Masaki's waist. He'd been waiting for this for two hours now. The feeling of Masaki's lips on his caused arousal to crash through him, and he pressed against Masaki's chest. He mouthed Masaki's lips. He wanted nothing more than to be in Masaki's arms.

Masaki drew Kichijouji to his bed with him. He helped Kichijouji lie down first, then climbed in and settled over Kichijouji's hot, slender body. He kissed Kichijouji's lips again, mouthing, and then kissed his neck. At the same time, he slipped his hands into Kichijouji's and intertwined their fingers. "I love you," he whispered. The throbbing urgency of their desires made it easier to speak in this moment. Saying it once had also lessened his stage fright.

Kichijouji moaned at the feeling of Masaki's body atop his, the kiss to his neck, and the gentle way Masaki intertwined their fingers and then pressed his hands to the mattress. He let his head fall back and to the side so Masaki had more room. He could feel that both of them were throbbing from the way they were trapped against each other's bodies. "Masaki, yes."

Masaki moaned and lapped at Kichijouji's neck, conscious of how they had come last time doing this. He wanted to get straight to the pleasure and suspend them there as long as possible. He kissed and nibbled gently, feeling safe to express himself because Kichijouji wouldn't judge him.

Kichijouji sank into the mattress as he relaxed. He squeezed Masaki's fingers gently. "Yes. God, yes." He parted his thighs so Masaki's hips would fall between them, like last time. It felt intimate, good. He moaned openly, although he tried not to get too loud. They didn't want to draw unwanted attention.

Masaki buried his face against Kichijouji's neck and moaned as well. He nuzzled and then resumed kissing and licking. Every now and again he squeezed Kichijouji's hands. He was fully hard now, and his underwear grew damper. "I want you. I need you. I'm the one who's going to protect you."

A burning, pulsing wave of desire flooded through Kichijouji. To him, those were both the most romantic and the sexiest words possible. He squeezed the sides of Masaki's hips with his inner thighs. "Masaki," he moaned. "Yes. I want that." Suddenly, having Masaki's weight on top of him and having his hands pinned was twice as sensual and arousing. He realized he wasn't nervous about what they might share or how intimate it might be. Not at all. He trusted Masaki.

Masaki licked his way up Kichijouji's neck and traced the curve of Kichijouji's ear. "I won't have anything else. I'll do whatever it takes." His sudden certainty that he could take down Kosuke if he needed to fueled his determination. His erection throbbed. _I won't have to worry about Rokugo. I can slam through him like a knife if it means having Kichijouji to protect and to love._ He looked into Kichijouji's eyes. _Rokugo wasn't there when you cried at having to identify your parents' bodies. It was my chest you cried into. Rokugo can't possibly compete._

The burden of worrying was lifted off of Masaki. He rocked their hips together slowly, rubbing their clothed erections together. The feeling made him moan, but also sent a shiver of intense feelings down his spine. _I'm the one for you. I know it._

Kichijouji moaned at the lick to his neck, then cried out at the lick to his ear. Then Masaki caught his gaze, and Kichijouji could see the love, determination, and protectiveness in his eyes. For a moment, Kichijouji's attention was fully focused on that love. Then Masaki rocked his hips, and sheets of pleasure erupted through Kichijouji as Masaki rubbed them against each other. He squeezed his eyes shut and cried out again. This time he didn't want to be quiet. He wanted Masaki to hear how good it felt.

Masaki leaned in and mouthed Kichijouji's lips while he continued to rock their hips together, squeezing Kichijouji's hands tight. He moaned into Kichijouji's mouth. _I want to hear you, but I don't want anyone else to hear and think that something terrible is happening, when this is so wonderful._ His body trembled with the force of his arousal.

Kichijouji's breath caught then stuttered at the fresh surge of arousal. "Oh, god! Masaki!" He knew he was going to get loud—too loud. "Masaki," he gasped. "Oh, Masaki . . . would you touch it?" He blushed hard and rushed to add, "Through my clothes." He knew they weren't ready to get naked yet. But he wanted to feel even more, and he also knew he needed one hand free so he could muffle himself, even though he didn't want to.

Masaki slipped a hand in between them without any hesitation. He felt a sweat break out over his body. _I'm going to touch it…for the first time_. He felt the outline of Kichijouji's erection through his pants and underwear. The feeling was intoxicating. He squeezed and massaged, filled with a sense of arousal, devotion, and wickedness. "I like it," he mumbled.

Kichijouji pressed his forearm against his mouth so he could muffle the subsequent cry. He squirmed under Masaki, unable to stay fully still. "Masaki!" he gasped, lifting his arm just enough to speak. Then he had to muffle his moans again. His hips shivered, and the heat of the pleasure erupted through him. He felt his lower back bowing off the mattress, just as it had the first time.

Masaki squeezed and caressed in milking motions, feeling increasingly lewd and romantic at the same time. The confusing swirl of feelings didn't deter him. He moaned against Kichijouji's neck, kissing as he continued to deliberately coax Kichijouji towards an orgasm. _I want you to come all over my hand. I want to feel the wetness through your clothes._ His own erection pounded in time with his heartbeat.

Kichijouji ended up panting between moans, the sounds muffled to the best of his ability. His neck tingled wildly as Masaki kissed and sucked upon it. That powerful sensation was paired with an even more potent one: the feeling of Masaki caressing him through his pants. He'd never been this aroused or this hard before. "Masaki," he gasped against his sleeve. "Masaki!" He squirmed one more time, and then his hips began rocking, bringing him to meet the caresses. The rhythm was instinctual, unconscious, and left him nearly breathless. He let his arm flop onto the mattress. "Oh, god—Masaki!" His body was soaring, and he knew he couldn't hold out much longer.

Masaki kissed Kichijouji deeply, struck through by Kichijouji's exclamation. He licked the roof of Kichijouji's mouth before quickly retreating. He was still too shy to kiss that way for long. He sucked and licked Kichijouji's neck instead, moaning. His body shook in time with the motions of his hand and Kichijouji's body. "Do it," he whispered. The crotch of his own underwear was soaked.

The momentary deeper kiss drew an equally deep moan from Kichijouji. Then Masaki's whispered encouragement shot through him. His hips jerked once, hard, and then he was rocking against Masaki's hand with sheer abandonment. He pressed his hand to his mouth to muffle his cry as he came.

Kichijouji lay still for a moment afterward, breathless. Then it sank in that he had shared something even more intimate with the boyfriend he intended to be a lifelong partner with. It was special. Meaningful. Amazing. He flung his arms around Masaki and hugged him.

Masaki kissed Kichijouji. His heart beat wildly, and he was overcome. He hugged Kichijouji tight. At the same time, he hovered on the precipice of coming. "Do me," he whispered. "Touch me the same way. I want you to."

"From this position?" Kichijouji asked. "Or do you want to switch places?" He caressed Masaki's cheek.

Masaki was amazed. He hadn't considered that. "Switch places," he whispered, looking into Kichijouji's eyes.

Kichijouji smiled and shifted. Masaki rolled with him, affecting the switch. Once Masaki was settled on his back, Kichijouji sat on his thighs and smiled down at him. "I hope this feels as good for you as it did for me." He reached down, his heart pounding all over again, and traced over the outline of Masaki's erection. He could see it quite clearly through the clothing. Even with the cloth in the way, Kichijouji could also feel the heat.

Masaki moaned and threw back his head. He covered his eyes with his arm and then slid his forearm down to his mouth. He bit his sleeve hard and nodded. He could feel sweat on his forehead. He watched Kichijouji's face.

At the sight of Masaki's initial pleasure, Kichijouji felt flushed. He gazed at the person he had so quickly and thoroughly fallen in love with and copied Masaki's technique. He caressed over his erection and used a milking motion.

Masaki cried out against his arm and arched, panting. His legs fell farther open, and his hips left the bed, pressing up. His eyes shut of their own accord. He hadn't been prepared for the intensity of someone else touching him for the first time. His erection twitched against Kichijouji's hand as the waves of pleasure pulsed through him.

Kichijouji moaned softly, aroused again by how much his touch affected Masaki. "Good," he found himself whispering. "Feel it." He wanted Masaki to have as much pleasure as possible, and he wanted to be the one giving it. He caressed and milked Masaki with a sure hand, determined for him to have the best. He slid his free hand up Masaki's chest, caressing his muscles through the shirt.

Masaki whimpered and squirmed. All of him wanted to feel Kichijouji all over, and he discovered he'd been too near orgasm already. He sobbed into his arm and came, whimpering as his hips jerked, pressing his trapped erection into Kichijouji's hand. His chest was on fire with Kichijouji's touches. When he was done, he was a sweaty, exhausted heap. He let his arm flop away from his face. "God!"

Kichijouji smiled and stretched out across Masaki's body, laying over him. He pressed a kiss to Masaki's lips. "Love you," he whispered. He tucked his nose against Masaki's sweaty neck, not caring that it was damp.

Masaki wrapped his floppy arms around Kichijouji and snuggled in, feeling sleepy and loved. "You, too."

Kichijouji pressed a quick kiss to Masaki's neck. Given that the beginning of August had been for him an utter tragedy, he had never imagined that by mid-September he would be loved, protected, and committed to. "Thank you," he whispered, unable to express the surge of emotion in any more of a complex way. He changed his mind: there was hope in life, and there was a universal guiding force or hand to help him. He would accept that as true simply because Masaki and he had found each other despite both of them being in the middle of hell.


	7. Facing Kosuke

**Chapter 7**

The following Monday, Kichijouji braced himself for the confrontation between Masaki and Kosuke. He knew it was coming. Not only had Kosuke said he'd take it up with Masaki on the next school day, but also Kosuke was the kind of guy who would absolutely follow through on his promises. Or threats, in this case.

Masaki seemed not to be worried. He spent the morning smiling and socializing between classes, just like usual.

Given that Kosuke was in Class B and they were in Class A, it took until lunchtime before Kosuke showed up. Kichijouji, Masaki, Emi, and Akio were already settled on the roof with their bento boxes. Hideo was home sick, having caught a stomach virus from his date to the dance. Kichijouji figured that was just as well. Akio he could trust to handle the situation well. Hideo he trusted not at all, at least not on this count.

Kosuke glided through the door to the roof, not carrying a lunch, and strode over to them with the wind blowing through his black hair, looking every inch The Cool Guy. He stopped several feet shy and pointed at Masaki. "Ichijou. I challenge you to explain yourself or accept a duel, if you insist on remaining silent."

"Explain myself?" Masaki protested. "About what?" He didn't really want to do this, but it looked like he had no choice.

Kosuke fastened his gaze on Kichijouji. "Kichijouji, answer me this much: Did Ichijou force you to show up to the dance with that girl?"

Akio looked at Kosuke and Masaki with wide-eyed surprise and confusion.

Emi stared down at her bento.

"Nope," Kichijouji said, sounding nearly sing-song in his response.

Kosuke's Cool Guy demeanor collapsed. "W-What?"

A smile quivered on Kichijouji's lips. "Oh, I did that of my own free will. Would you like to know why?"

Kosuke's shoulders drew back, and he paled. "Why?"

It was all Kichijouji could do not to laugh. "Because _I_ was the 'girl' who Masaki took to the dance. Don't you think I looked good in that _qi pao_?"

Kosuke straightened to his full height and gasped. "Why would you do that? Why would you pretend to be a girl – just for him?" He stabbed a finger at Masaki again.

Masaki was shocked to see tears welling up in Kosuke's eyes. Kosuke was always too cool to cry.

"Don't you know he's just using you?" Kosuke's hand trembled. "He'll make you lie again and again and again while he tells everyone else he has a girlfriend! You'll always be 'just a friend'! He'll make you slink around behind everyone's backs and never take center spotlight on his arm, meet in weird places, try to have make out in the dark at public parks because he'll never take you home. He's going to degrade you!" Tears ran down Kosuke's cheeks. "He'll tell you that you can never come out to anyone or tell anyone his name, because your love will only shame him. And when you get tired of pretending and insist on coming out, telling your parents, telling everything that's happened, he's going to dump you."

Masaki stared. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Emi and Akio staring as well.

"Whoa…" Emi said softly. "Did this happen to you?"

Kosuke scrubbed his eyes with his forearm. "Why do you hate me this much, Kichijouji? I'm just trying to save you from _him_. All the Master Clans are alike. No matter how much you like him, you can't trust him!"

For a moment, Kichijouji had been furious. Then, as he listened to Kosuke's rant and saw the tears, he realized the details were too specific. Too genuine. The instant Emi had asked her question, Kichijouji had known the answer: Kosuke had been abused and then tossed away.

Kichijouji glanced at Masaki and then stood and walked over to Kosuke. "It doesn't have to be that way," he murmured. "Some men are honorable." Then he forcibly set aside the fact he was in a very public place and broke decorum. He ran his arms around Kosuke and hugged him. "Thank you for worrying about me, but it sounds like I should be worrying about you. You have a broken heart."

Kosuke sobbed on Kichijouji's shoulder and clung to Kichijouji tightly. "Why? Why do you care after – I said all those horrible things about your boyfriend? Why don't you hate me, too?"

Masaki scrambled to his feet. "What do you mean, 'too'? I don't hate you. We can be friends if you want to be. I just don't want you trying to tell Jouji I'm a bad person."

"Because I know all about pain," Kichijouji said. For a moment, his mind was filled with the memory of his parents' faces—too pale, stiff, cold. Harsh white light shone down on their faces, glaring off the white sheets covering the rest of their bodies. His stomach squeezed itself into a knot, and he hugged Kosuke harder. "Masaki taught me . . . you don't have to hurt alone. And even when you've lost everything, someone can still come along and love you."

Kosuke's sobs quieted.

Masaki dared to edge over and put his hand on Kosuke's back. "Be our friend."

Kosuke nodded against Kichijouji's shoulder, but he didn't speak.

Kichijouji smiled to himself. "Good. We'll both protect you." He felt relieved that Kosuke hadn't lied when he claimed they would still be friends even if Kichijouji didn't date him. Also, Kosuke needed someone who could really understand him, considering.

"Both?" Kosuke asked in a watery voice. He raised his head and slowly looked at Masaki.

Masaki nodded. "Both." He rested a hand on Kichijouji's shoulder. "We will. Together."

Kichijouji felt a fierce pulse of protection for his new friend. He pulled back and smiled at Kosuke, and then he smiled at Masaki as well. _I really did pick the kindest, most honorable guy I could have._ "Great. That's all settled. Now, let's eat lunch."

Emi jumped up, grabbed Kosuke's wrist, and pulled him down beside her. "Now that that's settled, you've got to teach me how to make hot dog squids!"

Kosuke blinked at her, then let out a small laugh. "It's really simple."

"Good. Tell me all about it." Emi looked as if she wanted to pet Kosuke's head.

Masaki plopped back down beside Kichijouji. They exchanged a smile.

Kichijouji picked up his lunch and resumed eating, feeling certain that everything was smoothed over and soon they would all be solid friends. He couldn't lie to himself and blithely believe his life as a whole would have a happy ending, but he was contented for now, and he would accept the joy of the present moment.


End file.
